


Donna Noble and the Magic Castle, Year 1

by Iridalmenie



Series: Donna Noble in the Wizarding World [1]
Category: Doctor Who (2005), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, But with added sass!, Crossover, Gen, Harry gets lots of hugs, Hogwarts First Year, sassy Donna
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:47:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 56,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27740230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iridalmenie/pseuds/Iridalmenie
Summary: A woman who has lived a long time finds herself in the body of a young girl. What will happen when an owl delivers a letter?(Or: Donna Noble goes to Hogwarts)
Series: Donna Noble in the Wizarding World [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2029192
Comments: 40
Kudos: 102





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, here it is... my longest ever fanfic! I spent a LONG time writing this (mostly because it was bursts of writing interspersed with my many other hobbies). In the interest of honesty, I feel I ought to warn you, I basically followed the plot for the first book. You get what you see, Donna in the wizarding world, but don't expect any shocking plot twists. If that's not your cup of tea, that's fine, I just want to warn you up front so you don't get to the end of the story and feel cheated.
> 
> That being said, some remarks.
> 
> 1) I do not own the rights to either the wizarding world (JKR) or the whoniverse (BBC), and I don't make any money from this. I just play in their sandboxes a little. This is valid for the whole story, I'm not going to repeat myself for every chapter.  
> 2) The story has been beta'ed by the lovely Loor  
> 3) I started this story with a particular scene in mind, I will let you know when we get to it. It went from one scene to this 28 chapter monstrosity, so... yay?  
> 4) If you ever feel that there is a pop culture reference that Donna should make, let me know. If I feel she might know it, it might just end up in there somewhere. No promises though. At the moment I'm kind of limited by my own pop culture references, which are less extensive than some people I know, but I did my best.  
> 5) This story is not set in the same universe as my other crossovers. I will admit I was quite tempted to have Donna meet the Harry raised by the Doctor, but that is material for another story.
> 
> And so, without further ado... enjoy!

The old woman prowled around the house. Her once ginger hair had turned white with age a long time ago, and was pulled into a neat bun. The hour was growing late, but she was having trouble settling. There was a heavy feeling in the air, like there was something just around the corner, just waiting to happen. 

So, instead of getting into bed for the night, she was wandering around and reminiscing, touching this or that knick-knack that she'd gathered in the course of a long life. She had lived life to the fullest, she was glad to say. She'd tried to experience as much as possible, she'd travelled – not just the touristy kind with a camera and a list of tourist traps to visit, but trying to immerse herself into a culture. Any injustice she saw, she'd tried to help any way she could. At first she'd been alone, later on she'd travelled together with her husband and children. 

She wasn't quite sure where her way of life came from. Not from her mum, that was certain. In part, perhaps, from her gramps, but even he – despite his dreams of the stars – had stayed much closer to home. She had a vague idea that there was someone missing, and if she could just remember... it was a familiar feeling. She'd lived with it for... oh, perhaps not quite as long as she could remember, but certainly longer than she wanted to admit. Whenever she tried to figure it out, find that elusive blue memory in the back of her mind, she would develop a sudden headache and an intense need to go do something else, preferably something active and not at all introspective.

She'd always had the feeling that her granddad, and even her mother to a lesser extent, had known more about the whole thing than they'd admitted out loud. She hadn't thought of that sort-of memory, or that feeling that there ought to be a memory, in a long time. Gramps had convinced her, many years ago, to just leave it be, and she had. She'd had other things to think about by that time.

Eventually her feet brought her to the kitchen, where they had spent so much time, especially in their later years, when travelling had not been quite as evident as it once had been. 

She sat in her own lazy chair, watching his with a sad smile on her face. It had stood empty for so long. Too long.

The woman sighed, and settled her head against the headrest, closing her eyes. She had the vague idea that she would regret it tomorrow if she fell asleep here, but she couldn't bring herself to move. It felt right, sitting here.

That was the moment it all went to hell.

She would swear later, when she'd processed the whole thing, that she actually felt the start of it. The storm that had been approaching washed over her with a tingling sensation. When she opened her eyes and looked at her hand, it was glowing with a golden light, and she just knew if she looked in a mirror right now, that same colour would be shining from every bit of exposed skin. A moment later, she didn't know anything anymore as the golden light engulfed her. 

When she opened her eyes again, she was standing on an empty sun-drenched street, which was odd in so many ways she wasn't even going to try and name them all. She was wearing the same clothes as before – slightly problematic, that, because they were threatening to fall off her shoulders. In fact, they felt several sizes too big. And the reason for that feeling, she saw when she risked a glance down, was that she had the body of a child. Nine years old, she estimated, ten at the maximum. 

A nearby street sign provided the answer to one of her more urgent questions. Next to the name of the street there was a coat of arms, and right above that, three words: City of...

She was in _Cardiff_?

Putting her hands on her hips, she said to nobody in particular: “Well, this is just wizard!”


	2. Chapter 1 - Jack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stranded in Cardiff...

Donna Noble was annoyed. She was many other things as well – most notably majorly confused about how exactly she'd ended up in Cardiff, of all places, but for the most part she was annoyed.

Because it was just so bloody typical, wasn't it. She'd saved the whole of reality from a cackling madman and his oversized pepperpots, created a human-time lord metacrisis, thereby making herself the DoctorDonna, the Doctor had wiped her memory to save her... only now it turned out he wasn't even right, was he? She'd changed more than he'd given her credit for, she'd gained the ability to regenerate. Granted, she'd regenerated into herself at 10-ish years old, judging by her hair colour, rather than into a completely different face the way he did, but that was beside the point. The actual point was that the process had rewired her brain, giving her back not only her own memories, but also – a little harder to reach – the Doctor's, the whole reason she'd nearly fried her own brain.

Which left her stranded, really. Whatever had transported her from London to Cardiff, likely happening simultaneously with but separate from the regeneration, might just as well have dropped her off in the past or the future. Her guess was past, since most major city centres had long since banned cars, and the vehicles she could see here were much blockier than the sleek designs she'd been used to in her time.

So, first things first, she needed to figure out the date, and decide on her next course of action depending on the answer. She didn't much fancy living on the streets, but who could she go to? Not to herself – either she hadn't met the Doctor yet, she was travelling with him, or she'd forgotten him, and in that last case she would have remembered a 10-year-old her contacting her.

She would have to do something about the clothes fairly soon too, the constant adjusting so they wouldn't slip off was adding to her annoyance.

Just as she set off in search of a newspaper stand – yes, she was aware of the cliché, thank you very much, but it was better than asking a random person – a familiar figure rounded the corner into the deserted street she'd found herself on. Donna couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief. There could only be one person in the greater Cardiff area running around in a World War II greatcoat. If her guess about being in the past was correct and he hadn't met her grown-up self yet, he'd know to keep his mouth shut about current events when that time came. And not only that, but he'd seen enough during his time with the Doctor, and his time in Cardiff for that matter, to listen to her story with an open mind.

“Jack!” she said when the man was close enough to hear her. He was pointing some sort of scanner at her, though he stopped walking when he heard his name to regard her suspiciously.

“Do I know you?” he asked.

“You might? It sort of depends on what year it is.”

She could tell that comment piqued his interest.

“It is May of 1991.”

Donna harrumphed and crossed her arms in front of her in mock outrage. “Good god, I'm living through the nineties again?”

In response, Jack showed his trademark thousand watt smile for the first time. “I can tell there's quite a story attached to your appearance. Wanna talk in a more comfortable place? It's not exactly Torchwood procedure, but who the hell cares about those, anyway.”

Donna nodded emphatically. “Yes please! And if we could find some more size-appropriate clothes, that would be wonderful.”

Jack grinned and offered his arm. “Well, my lady... what's your name?”

“Donna, Donna Noble.”

“My lady Donna... I'm sure something can be arranged.”

She smiled back at him and took the offered arm. “Lead the way, sir Harkness!” She ignored the sideways glance he gave her. There'd be time enough to explain – or at least sum up – how they'd met. Were going to meet. God, she hadn't even started yet and the tenses were already giving her a headache.

Some time later they were sitting opposite each other in a Cardiff cafe. He was drinking coffee, she a hot chocolate. She found she'd lost her taste for the bitter beverage, though she suspected she'd find it again eventually. She had explained as much as she could without creating a paradox along the way. Even now, she hoped she hadn't given away too much by admitting that he did eventually find the Doctor again. 

“Ok, so now what?” Jack asked.

She thought he was probably still trying to wrap his head around the whole tale, but she'd given enough details for him not to doubt her word. It helped that she didn't have to convince him of the time travelling aspect of it. 

“Well, I was hoping you'd be able to help me. I'll need something like a legal guardian, until I can take care of myself again. I'll have to go back to school!” Jack laughed at the horrified expression on her face, and she chuckled ruefully back. 

“Anyway, I wouldn't be too much trouble. I can keep myself busy just fine, it'd just be a legality. D'you think you can help with that?”

Jack nodded. “I can come up with an arrangement, yeah. I have a flat for when I want to get away from Torchwood for a while, I can put you up there. It's not seeing much use otherwise, anyway. Not like my daughter ever visits or anything.”

Donna felt her eyebrows rise up of their own accord. “You have a daughter? You never mentioned her before.”

Jack laughed, although there was little humour in it. “I can imagine. Our relationship is tense enough as it is, what with my condition. I'm not sure when in my relative timeline we meet, but I'm fairly sure something will happen between now and then that I won't want to bring her up every chance I get. I'll cross that bridge when I get to it. For now, how about I show you my place, we get you settled in, and in the coming week we get the legalities taken care of. How does that sound?”

Donna nodded and smiled. “Sounds good. I do appreciate your doing this, Jack, I really do. Especially since we haven't actually met yet.”

Jack shrugged and showed her his famous smile. “Anything for a friend, Donna. Future or otherwise.”


	3. Chapter 2 - The Owl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is summer, the weather is nice, and an owl delivers a letter to an unsuspecting Donna Noble.

It was early in June, and the weather was nice for a change, one of those hot spells when there was not a cloud in the sky and you just knew it would last for the rest of the summer. It never did, of course, but that hardly mattered on days like these. On the other hand, it was not so hot that you couldn't lift a hand without breaking into a sweat, as had happened more and more often in her later years. 

Donna was sitting on Jack's rooftop terrace, reading a book. It was funny, really. Her first time as a 10-year-old, she wouldn't have dreamed about taking up a book in the summertime. Now, after having had kids, both in real life and in a virtual world, there was nothing she appreciated more than time to read without any interruptions.

Jack had a cleaner come in every week, so she didn't even have that many household chores to do. She'd forgotten how easy childhood was, too busy being a child the first time around to appreciate it – or lacking the experience of adulthood. She had even more freedom now than when she'd been living with her mum, since Jack often left her to her own devices while off doing Torchwood-related stuff, and appreciate it she did. To be fair, she had the whole hormonal circus to look forward to, but these preteen years were the best, and she was going to milk them for all they were worth. And if she was really lucky, the regeneration she'd gone through had rewired more than just her brain. It's not like she'd ever asked the Doctor if puberty was a thing that happened to Time Lords.

She was lounging in a reclining chair, engrossed in her book, while soaking up the sun. That was one thing that had not changed: she was as much a summer kind of person as in her old life. She did not like the cold.

“Hoot.”

Donna blinked, dragged back to the real world by a sound so unexpected that she had to think about what it was. 

“Hoot. Hoot!”

She blinked again, then slowly lowered her book and peeked over the edge to check if she'd heard correctly. 

There it was, large as life and sitting on the balcony railing. It managed to look, and sound, annoyed. Somehow. 

An owl. There was a real, honest-to-god owl staring at her, ruffling its feathers.

“Hoot,” it said again, decisively now that it had her attention. And then it stuck out its leg, and Donna could not help it, she just started laughing, the situation was so absurd. 

The owl evidently did not appreciate being laughed at, as it beat its wings a couple of times and stuck out its leg again.

“Alright, alright! Jeez, tetchy much? No need to get offended, sunshine, I'll take your bloody... is that a letter?” And she was off again, only just managing to untie the letter inbetween gales of laughter. She hardly noticed the owl's disdainful toss of the head, or its offended departure. 

“A bloody owl! With a letter written on parchment! In the middle of the day! Oh Jack, what have you gotten yourself into?”

It wasn't until she had calmed down enough to look at the letter that she realised her mistake. It was not addressed to Captain Jack Harkness. It was addressed, instead, to her.

Donna Noble  
Smallest bedroom  
Flat 30  
Liberty Residence  
Cardiff

Okay... that was more than a little creepy. Who sent this to her and how did they know where she slept? And, you know, why? Perhaps the most important question of all... who could she complain to?

When she turned the envelope around, she saw an actual crest. Who still used crests? Well, she wasn't going to get any answers just turning the damn thing around in her hands.

Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, she read when she opened it. Were they saying she was a witch? That wasn't very nice, was it, since she couldn't insult them back, whoever 'They' were. Apparently one of 'Them' was Minerva McGonagall, since she was the one to sign the letter.

Well, if she ever saw this McGonagall in person, she'd give her a piece of her mind, that was for certain.

When she read the second page, though, with the pointed hat and the cauldron on the materials list, not to mention the dragonhide gloves and a wand, she realised they were talking about actual witches. Because magic was... real? Maybe?

God, she missed the days of widespread internet. Her first instinct was to send a message to Jack to come around and then get onto the web to search for references on wizards and witches. Now, she'd have to wait for Jack to drop by, since she didn't know the Hub's phone number. He'd said he'd be there in the evening. She wanted to know if he'd known about this, about magic being real, or if he was as clueless as herself. How was she going to find out more information?

She would ask the people sending the letter, except they were 'expecting her owl' by the 31st. She'd suspect a euphemism of some sort, or a hoax, if it wasn't for the bloody great big bird that had delivered the letter. If she went up to a pet store saying she wanted an owl to send a letter to a magic school, she'd be off to the loony bin faster than you could say Gandalf. Waiting for Jack it was.

By the time Jack came around, she was going stir crazy. She hadn't read a single sentence more in her book. The letter lay on the table, innocently mocking her every attempt to ignore it. Every time she tried to focus, her eyes would just glide right back to the side, until she closed her book in disgust. Eventually she just started cooking, so that she'd have something to do to pass that time. Otherwise she'd go right back to studying every inch of the parchment looking for clues for the umpteenth time, and that would do little good. If she hadn't found any yet by now, she never would. When she heard the key turn in the lock, she breathed a sigh of relief.

Before he was halfway inside, she'd already grabbed the letter from the table and stood holding it out to him. “D'you know anything about this?”

Jack closed the door and raised an eyebrow at her. “Good evening Donna. How was your day?” Donna rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, pleasantries. Consider them exchanged. If you want to know about my day, I can tell you. A bloody owl delivered this.”

“An owl?”

“Yes, an owl! Big raptor, tufty ears, creepy eyes. It had this tied to its leg, gave it to me – with attitude, mind – and then flew away! Now tell me if you've ever heard about this, or anything like it, because I am clueless and more than a little bit freaking out.”

Jack took the letter from her and read through it, then again with a frown on his handsome face. She imagined she'd looked about the same on her first thorough read-through or five.

“You're sure this is real?”

“Fairly so. Seems kind of elaborate for a hoax, doesn't it, training an owl to deliver a letter, with my name on it and all, when hardly anyone even knows I'm here. Could be me, but owls don't seem very trainable. Sure, in those raptor shows they fly from one end of the pitch to the other for a bit of meat, but that is a far cry from sitting there and insisting on their package being taken.”

“Yeah, you're right, that does seem like magic might be involved. Let me think now. Have you eaten?”

She nodded toward the kitchen, where there was more than enough food to satisfy even Jack's voracious appetite.

“Nice. You don't do things by halves, do you?”

She shrugged. “I needed a distraction. Cooking's as good of one as anything else I could come up with. At least I haven't forgotten how.”

“You most certainly haven't. This is really good,” Jack said approvingly as he tasted the sauce. “I'm surprised you could even reach some of these ingredients in the high cupboards though, shorty.”

She nudged his arm with her elbow, well used to his teasing by now. “Oh har har, very funny, mister I'm-never-home-to-cook. That's what chairs are for. You probably didn't even know you had them in the first place.”

The meal passed with much ribbing from both sides, but their heart wasn't in it as much as usual. When it was over, they moved to the sitting room, Donna curling up in a corner of the couch. Jack stretched out in the easy chair, looking up at the ceiling for a moment before looking back at her.

“Okay. Let me start by saying that I don't know anything officially. My specialty, obviously, is extraterrestrial life. But I've been around the block a time or two, and I do notice things. For example, some years ago there was a slew of murders happening all over the country. The victims had little to nothing in common. Men, women, even children. Sometimes whole families would be found lying together, other times just one person. Some on the streets, others in their homes. 

“Most were perfectly healthy people. You'd expect them to live a long and fruitful life, and yet they were lying dead, without any wounds or visible cause of death. Autopsy reports concluded that their hearts just stopped, but why would a whole family have that happen all at the same time? It didn't make any sense. Eyewitnesses talked about seeing a green light, but since when do lights stop a heart? Not without leaving a visible wound, they don't.

“I read the reports, to see if there was alien involvement, but when I went to talk with the eyewitnesses, they had no clue what I was talking about. 'Green light? People dropping dead in broad daylight? No sir, I never saw anything of the kind.' It was almost like their memories had been wiped. I'd suspect Retcon, except we control the supply, and if there was a new source we'd have heard about it.

“Then, about ten years ago, they stopped. No more green light, no more mysterious deaths, nothing. I could not find any proof that aliens were involved, so I classified all the reports. I wonder if I were to dig them back up, if I'd see a pattern now that I missed then. 

“In fact, now that I'm thinking about it, what with your delivery owl, there was something to do with owls right around the time the murders stopped. What was it again... Something about loads of them being spotted in broad daylight. We should check out the newspaper archives, maybe we'll find an article about it. I never connected the owls with the murders, since it wasn't clear until later that they had stopped, and by then I'd forgotten all about the owls.”

“Okay. As enlightening as that is, it doesn't get us much closer to answer than 'Yes, magic probably exists, and something happened ten years ago. Maybe.' What we need is inside information. You wouldn't happen to have a wizard up your sleeve, do you?”

“I wouldn't be guessing quite so much if I did. Although...” Jack trailed off, a thoughtful look on his face.

“Care to share with the class?”

“There's this guy I know, bit of an odd duck. I met him about five years ago, helped him out of a spot of trouble with a Weevil. He has the oddest sense of fashion.”

“What, worse than yours?”

“Oy! At least I have style. A style, even, that I actually stick to. Archibald, my friend, thinks the height of fashion is the vest of a three-piece suit worn under dungarees and platform shoes right out of the seventies.”

“Right. So worse than the Doctor. Got it. But does that really mean he's a wizard?”

Jack shrugged. “Might not. Call it a hunch though, but I do think he might be. It wouldn't hurt to see him, get a feel for how much, if anything, he knows.”

The rest of the evening was spent in speculation, mostly about magic and what it could and could not do, and what the wizarding world was like, hidden away so well that even Jack, with all his years on earth, had heard nothing about it.

At least they were taking actions, although Donna really hoped this Archibald bloke would turn out to be the real deal. That way, she'd have someone to vent at.


	4. Chapter 3 - Archie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack and Donna meet Archie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Archie is an original character, not at all integral to the plot so don't worry if you forget about him ;)

“Archie!”

Jack's yell caused Donna to look up and across the square where they were sitting to enjoy the sunshine. Jack had not exaggerated about the bloke's sense of fashion. He was wearing a sweater vest with a bright blue shirt underneath, a top hat on his head and...

“Is that... spandex?”

Jack glanced at her with laughter in his eyes.

“Why yes, yes it is. Orange neon spandex, even. You have to admit, I am better dressed than that.”

“That you are, future boy.”

Jack smirked. “Look who's talking.” He turned to his friend before she could reply, so she settled for rolling her eyes. 

“Jack, hi!” Archie replied when he'd reached them. The two men shook hands. Donna noticed the man was handsome enough, if she looked past the spandex. Not quite on the level of Jack, but then few men were, at least outside of Hollywood. He had brown curly hair down to his shoulders and a clean-shaven face. His brown eyes were kind, something she'd learned to judge many years ago. 

“So, what was the rush?” he asked when introductions had been given. “Your message sounded urgent.”

Donna quickly jumped in. “Let's go somewhere private first. This whole situation is odd enough without everyone staring.”

Archie smiled at her, but the patronising tilt of his lips dropped him a few points in her esteem.

“What's that, little girl? Why are people staring at you?”

Donna crossed her arms and turned her best glare on the fellow, a gesture that, while pretty diminished by her new stature, was still effective enough that he took a step back.

“They're not staring at me, sunshine. Now let's go!”

“Alright, alright! Hold your hippogriffs, girl. Merlin, you've a temper on you.”

Even as he spoke, he allowed himself to be led towards Jack's flat, something she was very grateful for. The sooner he was out of the public eye, the better.

***

When they arrived, Jack turned to his friend.

“I'll just come straight to the point. We have a simple question for you, but the answer could save us a lot of trouble. Does the word 'Hogwarts' mean anything to you?”

Archie raised his eyebrows. 

“That sort of depends on why you want to know.”

Donna nodded towards the table. 

“Because I got a letter from them asking me to attend their school.”

Archie's face visibly brightened when he spotted the parchment. “You're a witch? Congratulations! Let me shake your hand!”

Oddly enough, all traces of the condescension she'd noticed earlier were gone. Huh. It seemed they were one step closer to unraveling this whole mess.

“Alright, so you do know Hogwarts then,” she said, even as Archie was pumping her hand up and down. “So, first question first – How the bloody hell are they expecting me to send an owl?”

Archie looked surprised, either at the question or her choice of words. He ran his hand through his hair in a manner that reminded Donna painfully of the Doctor. “You mean you haven't been visited by anyone to explain magic to you? I mean, you're fairly obviously muggleborn, if I may be so bold to say. You should be on the list for house-calls.”

Donna placed her hands on her hips, an action that again fell woefully short compared to her adult body, since she didn't have hips to speak of.

“Oy, who're you calling a... what did you call me?”

Archie quickly raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Sorry! I said muggleborn. Muggle is just our word for people without magic. I meant no disrespect.”

“Well it sounds offensive, just so you know. To answer your question, no, I did not see anyone, just a big owl that delivered that letter and then flew off.”

“That's odd. That's the procedure for wizard-raised students, since they assume either they or their parents will have their own owl, or at the very least access to postal owls. You're quite sure you didn't know about magic before now?”

“If I had, we wouldn't be having this conversation. I, for one, wouldn't have gambled on an oddly-dressed bloke being part of some hidden society if I'd known about said society.”

“What's wrong with the way I dress?” Archie seemed genuinely offended, looking down at his sartorial choice. “I have been reliably informed this is the height of fashion amongst muggles.”

Donna snorted. “A decade ago, maybe, and never with that combination. If you're not part of the mass acid trip that is the eighties, your common sense should tell you that orange and neon does not go together. You might want to review just how reliable your source really is. Look, I'll give you some pointers later if you want. Can we please get back on topic?”

“Right, sorry. Tell you what, I'll get in touch with Hogwarts, get them to send one of their representatives, and they can tell you everything you need to know. They're much better equipped to answer a muggleborn's questions than I am. I'll also let them know you'll be attending – I mean, you were planning to accept, right? Hogwarts is the best school there is, you know.”

Donna shrugged. “Might as well give this magic lark a go, I didn't really have a preference for a school anyway. How soon d'you think we'll see someone?”

“Hard to say, though I don't think it'll be much longer than a week.”

“That's great. Thanks, Archie, you've been a wonderful help. Now, about that outfit...”


	5. Chapter 4 - McGonagall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A visit from a Hogwarts teacher...

The bell rang at ten o'clock sharp, as had been agreed via note – still on parchment, but at least delivered by post and with a return address in case the proposed date was not suitable. Donna opened the door to a severe-looking woman. Everything about her spoke of rigid self-control, from her grey hair tied in a neat bun to her demure women's suit.

“Hello, dear,” the woman said when the door was fully open. “You must be Donna.” She had a slight Scottish burr in her voice and a kind smile in her eyes, although it barely touched the corners of her mouth.

“I am Professor McGonagall. May I come in?”

Donna stepped aside to let the woman through to the living area, where Jack was waiting. By the time she'd closed the door and had joined the other two, Jack was standing up and shaking the professor's hand with a familiar gleam in his eyes.

“Well hello, I'm Captain Jack Harkness. How are you today?”

Donna rolled her eyes. “Tone it down, Harkness.”

Jack turned a mock offended look on her. “What? I'm just being polite!”

A raised eyebrow on McGonagall's face had him throw up his arms in surrender. “Alright, alright. I can't win if it's two against one.”

Donna turned to the professor, knowing Jack would stop flirting once the topic became serious. Or at least curb it somewhat – the day Jack completely stopped flirting was the day he finally died for good.

“Can I get you something to drink, professor, before we get to the reason for your visit?”

The older woman looked genuinely pleased with the suggestion. “Why yes, thank you. Perhaps some tea?”

Once they were all settled, the professor was the first one to start speaking. 

“First, miss Noble, I feel I owe you an apology. As I understand from young Archibald Fairtree's somewhat excitable explanation, your letter was delivered by owl post, even though we normally make sure to visit muggleborn witches and wizards personally. I will be looking into how such a change in procedure was possible. For now, however, let us pretend that this is a normal visit, so that we may get to the questions you undoubtedly have.

“Now, you obviously received your letter already. Is there anything you or your father would like to ask?”

Donna glanced at Jack with a little smirk. “Jack is not my father, professor. He is a family friend and my guardian. But, my first question: Magic is actually real?”

“Oh, yes dear. Have you never experienced something inexplicable, or made something happen by really wanting it, perhaps in a stressful situation?”

Donna resisted the urge to glance at Jack again. He must be thinking the same thing she was. Plenty of weird stuff happened around her, but most of those could be explained. Most of them with 'The Doctor was involved.' Even her recent adventures could be traced to him one way or another. The regeneration in any case, and the displacement in space and time... well, if it wasn't him, then it was the Rift that was responsible. But things she herself had caused?

“Not as such, no.”

McGonagall pursed her lips together in thought. “That is somewhat irregular, but then we were already dealing with the irregular, were we not. Perhaps the two are related somehow. Under normal circumstances, untrained wizards and witches display what we call 'accidental magic'. It is generally an unfocused force, enacting a subconscious wish on behalf of the child. Very often, if not always, it occurs when a child experiences extreme emotions – anger, or fear, to give an example.”

“Right, and so muggleborns – that still sounds like an insult, by the way – don't get to hear about magic until they're eleven? Even though they've been using this magic for about a decade, give or take a few years? Tough sh... luck,” she corrected herself just in time to avoid cursing in front of the professor. Jack usually didn't mind, knowing her real age, so she wasn't in the habit of censoring herself.

McGonagall pursed her lips again. Evidently, she'd heard the replacement, though she didn't comment. Instead, she smoothed the legs of her trousers a little. “People have been trying to get the Ministry to change the policy.” From the annoyed set of her mouth, Donna guessed that she counted herself among these people. “But no, they hide behind their precious Statute of Secrecy and let the Hogwarts teachers do the talking, including why it took so long to explain what was going on.”

“Okay, well, since we've established that I am an exception... could you maybe show me some? Magic, that is?”

McGonagall nodded. From somewhere up her sleeve, she took a wooden stick, showing it to Donna and Jack. Then she showed her arm, and the leather that was strapped there. “Wand. Wand holster. Invest in one of these, they're much safer than keeping your wand in your pocket.”

With that, she twirled the wand and said... well, gibberish as far as Donna was concerned. Where was the TARDIS and her translation circuits when you needed her? McGonagall's clothes changed from her severe suit to a set of emerald robes.

“These are everyday robes for witches, although the hat is currently missing. What I just did is called Transfiguration, which is the discipline of changing one thing into another. More accurately, I ended the transfiguration on my robes. They were made like this, and I had transfigured them to a more muggle appearance to avoid attention.

“Other disciplines include Charms, where you learn how to manipulate the laws of physics as you learned them in school,” as she said this, the teapot rose into the air and poured itself, followed by the sugar and milk, and lastly the spoon stirred them, all without the professor's hand going near the items. McGonagall continued her speech as if nothing had happened. 

“or Herbology – working with plants has a magic all its own. Not everyone has an aptitude for it, but you need at least the basics. Then there's Potions, which is a slower kind of magic than the others, if not less powerful. Many pupils, and even adults, underestimate exactly what you can do with a well-brewed potion. My own first love is and always will be Transfiguration, and that is what I teach.”

Donna's eyes glittered as she watched the teapot's antics. “That is brilliant! I'm starting to see the appeal of learning magic. Where do I go to get a wand?”

The rest of the visit passed pleasantly, with Professor McGonagall explaining to them how to get to Diagon Alley and to Platform 9 ¾, as well as some recent history of the wizarding world. She also recommended several books that would be helpful in navigating wizarding society. She left with a confirmation from Donna that she would, indeed, be attending Hogwarts as of the 1st of September.

After she left, Donna and Jack sat on the couch, discussing everything they'd heard. For the first time since she'd realised she'd have to go back to school, she found herself actually looking forward to it. 

“I feel a trip to Diagon Alley coming up. You in or should I go alone?”

Jack grinned boyishly at her. “Rift permitting, count me in. Wouldn't miss it for the world. Besides, I have a couple of alien gadgets I'd like to try out on that perception filter type of thing she mentioned. Just some stuff that fell through the Rift. I'm sort of curious which of them is stronger, the magic from this world or the technology from another.”

“Will you be telling your boss about all this?”

Jack shook his head, looking a bit more serious. “Not right now. Torchwood One is definitely out, they'd probably try to eradicate magic users, and they're not nearly as proficient with alien weaponry as they like to believe. I'm fairly sure magic would win in that situation. My colleagues here in Cardiff... Lets just say, if something like their war ten years ago were to happen again, I might tell them. At least we'd know the cause of any inexplicable happenings. But for right now, I don't see the need to let them know. What they don't know won't hurt them, so long as these magicals keep up with that Statute of Secrecy. Let Torchwood concentrate on alien life and tech, and leave the magic to the experts.”

They continued talking for a while longer, until Donna's young body demanded sleep. That was one thing she missed, being able to go on until late at night. Then again, in her later years she'd gone to sleep early anyway, and at least she did have an abundance of energy during the day now, and none of the aches and pains that came with old age. In all, she thought she'd rather drawn the long straw in that particular exchange – the long nights would come again when she grew a little. Her last thought before falling asleep was excitement for their upcoming trip to Diagon Alley.


	6. Chapter 5 - Diagon Alley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The obligatory shopping trip.

Donna was leaning against a wall, waiting until Jack was finished playing with his toys. He was determining which alien tech had the ability to look past the enchantments on the pub. She couldn't help him, since she could see the Leaky Cauldron just fine. She occupied herself by observing passersby and patrons, trying to guess from their fashion sense who would enter the building and who would walk on with a slightly dazed look in their eyes.

Eventually Jack snapped his notebook shut, causing Donna to straighten. “Ready to go then, future boy?”

Jack took back the amulet that professor McGonagall had given him, which allowed him to bypass the muggle repellant wards, and gestured towards the run-down inn. “Lead the way, fair lady!”

Inside the Leaky Cauldron, they asked for Tom the barman's help in getting to the Alley, as the professor had told them to. As soon as she'd bought her wand, she'd be able to come here without any help. With only a bare minimum of flirting on Jack's part, they were looking on as Tom tapped the correct sequence. The brick wall opened like a curtain, rolling back to reveal the street behind it. Jack and Donna sported matching grins at the spectacle.

“Magic is brilliant!”

They stepped through the arch and onto a quaint cobblestone road. People bustled past, most of them dressed in robes. There were pointy hats bobbing about everywhere they looked. They linked arms and for a while just wandered around, taking in the sights and smells of the teeming shopping district.

“I can almost imagine myself on a different planet,” said Donna, while watching a toy store display, where a bunch of marionettes were dancing a jig to the tune of a couple of musical instruments that were playing themselves, while a miniature dragon swooped overhead and blasted tiny jets of flame that didn't burn anything.

Jack nodded. “I know what you mean. This could just as easily be Bartol, or the shopping enclave on Teranis 4, as the middle of London. The TARDIS could be parked right around the corner, with the Doctor ready to explain to us – in excruciating and entirely too technical detail – where the magic is coming from.”

Her only answer was a barely audible “Ha!”, a wistful smile visible on her face for a moment. If only. 

She couldn't resist throwing a quick look around the next corner. Jack caught the movement of her head, but he didn't say anything, just wagged his eyebrows at her. Not that he had room to talk without sounding like a complete hypocrite. He'd looked too, even though he'd been joking. 

There was no TARDIS of course. She would have to find her own way, again. At least this time she could do it as herself, with her memory intact. She might find the Doctor yet, but it would not be today.

Shaking her head to get rid of her gloomy thoughts, she looked around brightly.

“Anyway, we were here for a reason, yeah? Lets do some shopping.”

They stopped at Gringotts to change their money into the wizarding currency – which made even less sense than the old pound system – and to open an account for her. Watching Jack get his flirt on with the very surprised goblin teller was as funny as it was disconcerting. Nothing against goblins, but she wouldn't want to seduce one, if such a thing was even possible. All the more challenge for Jack, and good luck to him, but she didn't want to know.

After that, they went over the supplies list again to see where they would go first.

“Wand!” Donna yelled.

“You sure?” Jack asked with a twinkle in his eyes. “We're closer to some of these other stores.”

Donna just grinned and grabbed his hand, jumping up and down in a passable imitation of an excitable 11-year-old. “Wand, wand, wand!”

Jack laughed and winked at a passing witch who was looking at her with a sympathetic grin on her face. He gestured in the direction that Ollivanders wandshop was supposed to be. 

About half an hour later, they were standing outside again, and she was the proud owner of a Beech wand, 12 and a half inches and quite flexible, with a unicorn tail hair – information provided courtesy of Garrick Ollivander, creepy wizard extraordinaire. He might be a fine wand-maker, but social skills he had not. 

Their next stop was Flourish & Blotts, the bookstore. There they collected all the titles on the list, conveniently gathered at the front of the shop, with an elegant sign above them reading 'Hogwarts'. Then they browsed the bookshelves for some of the books professor McGonagall had advised, as well as anything that looked interesting, or that might help them understand the wizarding world better. 

When their purchase was paid for, they worked their way down the list, buying everything she would need and anything else that might come in handy. When Donna expressed concern over the amount of money he was spending on her, Jack just shrugged. “Eh, I've got a fair bit squirreled away over the years, and it's not seeing much use otherwise. Might as well spend it on my favourite shorty.”

They debated whether to get a pet, but eventually decided against it. Jack didn't have the time to take care of it, and Donna didn't want the responsibility. She'd had her fair share of pets over the years, and while she usually managed to keep them alive and generally happy, she wanted to be a bit more firmly established in her new life before even thinking about an animal.

They ended the day at Fortescue's, each with a humongous ice cream in front of them. It was delicious, if odder than anything she'd known back home. Even that horrid blue smurf ice that had been popular for a while, tasting more like chemicals than anything, did not compare. One of her scoops was slowly changing colour, and managed to taste like actual fruit, a different kind every time it changed. Another was so fluffy she wasn't sure how it kept its scoopy form, and it tasted a bit like she imagined a sugared cloud might. But the oddest thing of all, which only became apparent after a while... the ice cream did not melt. 

While tackling the monstrosities in front of them, they observed the magicals going about their daily lives, and inventing all sorts of details to go with them. 

“There, that one, with the purple robes,” Donna pointed with her spoon. “He lost his hair and eyebrows in a tragic accident involving coconuts and shoestring, leaving him with just the beard as his only body hair – anywhere. Incidentally, koala bears were involved, and he cannot look them in the eye anymore.”

The longer the game continued, the more outrageous the details became, until they were laughing too hard to continue. 

Eventually, though, the day came to an end, and they made their way back to the muggle side to find their car. Jack had chartered the Torchwood SUV for the day, citing 'research opportunities' as the reason, and dropping off some alien tech that he deemed harmless in the greedy hands of Yvonne Hartman and Torchwood One.

Tom was nice enough to put a notice-me-not and a featherlight charm on her trunk and its contents, so that they had an easier time taking it with them without getting stared at. Honestly, who even used trunks anymore instead of something normal, like a suitcase? There was supposed to be a way to shrink her trunk, but she wanted to be in a more comfortable environment to try out all the features.

The drive back to Cardiff was spent discussing the sights and smells of Diagon Alley. She thought she might like to go up to London a day or two early, get a room at the Leaky Cauldron, and explore the Alley at her leisure.

On second thought, though, she might do that when she was older, so there wouldn't be quite so many questions about why an 11-year-old was wandering the street alone. There were some things she missed about having an adult body, and being able to go where she pleased was definitely at the top of that list. 

Still, it was something to keep in mind. She wouldn't be 11 forever.


	7. Chapter 6 - The Train

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the way to Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it just me or is my Harry Potter and the Blue Box story more popular? Ah well :)

The rest of August practically flew by. She practiced writing with a quill, as well as learning polite society's manner, with the help of Jack. He had, after all, lived through the nineteenth century. She had little patience for either activity, and in fact raided a stationary's for pen and paper enough to see her through the year. Still, Jack made sure her handwriting would at least be legible by the time she left for school, and even if she never participated in any of the pureblood social dance, at least she knew exactly which rules she was flouting. 

In exchange for the promised fashion advice she gave Archie, he taught her a couple of easy charms. He'd told her about the Trace, but also that it didn't work on pre-Hogwarts-aged children. He even promised that during the holidays, she could come over to his house and practice without setting it off, as the Ministry had no way of knowing who actually did the magic in a wizarding home. It seemed that he had developed a bit of a protective streak, since he was the one who had discovered her. After he had dropped the patronising tone of voice, which she now realised had more to do with her perceived muggleness (muggledom?) than with her age or gender, he was actually quite fun to hang around with. 

Before she knew it, the 31st of August had arrived, and she was checking once again if she'd packed everything. It helped that she had arrived with only the clothes on her back. This meant she didn't have that much stuff that she could forget. The only thing left in her room were some clothes that she didn't think she'd need.

They were taking the train up to London in the evening, and Jack had booked a hotel room close to King's Cross so that they'd have enough time the next day to catch the Hogwarts Express. Neither of them fancied getting stuck in the morning traffic jam.

Once everything had been checked to her satisfaction, she took her wand and tapped it twice on the little owl decoration in the middle of the lid, shrinking it to miniature size. She picked it up with one hand, marvelling at it for a moment. Then she grinned. “God, I love magic!”

She put the small trunk inside a backpack and slid her wand into her wandholster, which had an automatic perception filter when worn – no, wait, what did they call it? A notice-me-not charm?

She bounced into the living room, where Jack was sitting with his feet propped up on the coffee table. He tilted an eyebrow at her until she calmed down just a little.

“I know, I know, you don't have to tell me. Gosh, I can't remember ever being this excited to get to school the first time around.”

Jack laughed. “I don't blame you. I would be too, if I could go. I mean, think about it... Magic!”

They ate an early lunch and then went to the train. They were in London in plenty of time to check in and then do another round of Diagon Alley, just to take in the atmosphere. There were not nearly as many students with families this time, since everyone had already done their school shopping. It was still a very nice ending to the holidays.

The following day, they were at King's Cross nice and early, even though they'd slept until nine and took their time with breakfast. The train didn't leave until 11, but it was only just past 10 when they were contemplating the wall between platforms nine and ten, behind which was supposedly platform 9 ¾, for the train to Hogwarts.

Jack was trying out some of the same alien tech as before, but he didn't have any luck trying to see through it.

“We are sure this is the right wall, are we not?” he asked Donna.

She shrugged in reply. “Only one way to find out, future boy. Stand aside.”

Professor McGonagall had told them, if they didn't trust it, to go at it at a bit of a run, but Donna didn't fancy making a fool of herself in the middle of the train station. Instead she casually leaned against the wall, thinking very hard about wanting to get to the other side. If her perusal of her school books in the past weeks had taught her anything, it was that a large part of magic was intent. In theory, if you leaned against this wall thinking it was a wall, nothing out of the ordinary would happen. On the other hand, if you leaned against it thinking it a gateway, then the magic would grant you access. 

Her theory was confirmed a moment later when she felt a sort of falling sensation. She stumbled for a moment, and when she righted herself, she found herself on a platform straight out of the 19th century, complete with giant red steam engine standing on the tracks.

She was still admiring the scene when she heard a whoop behind her and Jack came careening through the wall (which, to be fair, did look like an actual gate from this side). Donna rolled her eyes. “Figures you'd do the running thing. Sometimes I wonder who's supposed to be the 11-year-old here.”

Jack scoffed. “Live a little, shorty. Besides, your body notwithstanding, you're not 11 and you know it. With those DoctorDonna memories, you're arguably older than I am.”

She waved a hand dismissively, but didn't answer him. Instead, she took his arm and pulled him along. “Come on, let's go find me a seat before they're all taken, and then we'll do some wizardwatching.”

There weren't too many people yet, so finding an empty compartment was no problem. Once her backpack, containing her small trunk, school robes and a lunch, was stored in the overhead compartment, they went and sat on a bench.

Slowly but surely the platform filled up with more people. Parents were hugging and waving at their children, friends found each other again, nervous first years were scanning the crowds trying to find a friendly face. In all, it was a rather amusing spectacle.

By a quarter to eleven, Donna stood up. “I guess I'd better go and take my seat. I don't want to get caught in a rush of last-minute boardings.”

Jack smiled as he stood up as well, and quickly wrapped her in a hug. “Take care, Donna. I'll miss you and your sarcastic mouth.”

Donna grinned into his trademark greatcoat as she returned the hug. “You too, old man. Catch some aliens for me. And try not to die too much, eh?”

“Go on then, off with you. Let me know when you've arrived, okay?”

With a wave, Donna hopped on board and entered her compartment. She'd barely sat down when the door opened and a blonde head poked in. 

“Sorry, can we sit here? I mean, we could go look for a different place if you really wanted to be alone, but I think sharing a compartment is kind of the point of this whole train ride, so might as well be with us, right?”

Donna raised her eyebrows. “Bubbly, aren't ya? Come on in, I don't mind.”

The blonde actually bounced as she entered, followed by a more sedate brunette. They dragged in their trunks and Donna stood up to help store them overhead. They looked curiously at the backpack, sitting incongruously next to the trunks.

“Did you store everything for the whole year in that pack?” the blonde asked. 

Donna nodded. “Yup. Well, technically I stored it in my trunk, but that has a shrinking charm built in, so it's sitting in my backpack in its smallest size.”

“Makes sense, I guess,” said the second girl. “Mine has the shrinking charm too, but my aunt said to keep it full size, 'cause there's not much room on the train for shrinking and unshrinking whole trunks, and we do need to reach our school robes.”

Donna grinned. “That's why I put the robes and my lunch into the backpack separately. There's no reason to unshrink my trunk until we get to Hogwarts.”

“Smart. I'm Susan Bones, by the way, and this young whippersnapper is Hannah Abbott.”

“Donna Noble, nice to meet you. First years, I assume?”

Hannah nodded. “Most of the upper years already have all the friends they want, so they don't really bother with introductions, they just pick an empty compartment and fill it.”

Just then, a whistle sounded. Donna looked outside and quickly found Jack standing a little ways back with his hands in his trouser pockets. His gun holster was showing, but most wizards didn't seem to realise just how lethal a gun was. 

She waved at him, and he lifted up his hand as the train began to move. Susan and Hannah were likewise waving to family on the platform, until it was no longer visible.

“Well, we're off.” Susan said.

Donna could not help herself, she had to follow that up with: “We're off to see the wizard, the wonderful wizard of Oz.”

Susan and Hannah both looked at her blankly.

“No wizard of Oz? No, I guess not. Who needs a story about a fake wizard when you have the real deal?”

“I take it you're a muggleborn?” Susan asked politely.

Donna looked at the two girls, who were wearing clothes that could not be anything other than robes. Then she looked down at her own clothes: a green dress reaching down to her thighs with a broad belt over it, black leggings and black flats. In other words, not even close to wizarding fashion.

“What gave it away?” she deadpanned.

“You might want to be careful about who you proclaim your blood status to. I mean, we don't care, but there are some students... well, they're rather vocal about their disdain for anything muggle. I wouldn't put it past them to hex you just for existing.”

“I'm not hiding who I am just to avoid trouble with a bunch of ignorant twats whose opinion I don't care about. Disdaining something when you know nothing about it is the height of arrogance. I'm just saying, I don't know that much about wizarding culture yet, but you don't see me disparaging it, do you? I'd rather learn about it, but I'm not going to act ashamed about my own background.

“Besides, if they do hex me, they might just have to look over their shoulder for a long time. Revenge will be cold, sweet and probably filled with muggle references.”

The two laughed, and the conversation that followed compared wizarding and muggle culture. Donna had to keep in mind that the muggle world had only just left the 1980's behind, and she'd lived decades later than that. Then again, so long as she avoided major stuff like the internet, Susan and Hannah didn't know enough about the topic to call her out if she mentioned things out of their time.

She would have to be more careful when talking to other muggleborns, though. They'd notice casual talk of owning a computer, let alone a smartphone, which wasn't even getting invented for another decade or so.

After a while there was a knock on their door, and a girl dressed in her school robes entered without bothering to wait for a reply. At the sight of the wild mane of curls, Donna had a flashback to a planet-sized library and a mysterious archeologist called River Song. Donna hoped that she was not witnessing the start of that woman's story. She'd had an air of danger about her, and she'd known so much about the Doctor. Adding magic to that mix... no, better hope not.

“Has anyone seen a toad at all? There's this boy called Neville who lost his and I promised I'd help him look.”

Considering their door hadn't opened since Hannah and Susan had entered, it didn't seem likely, but they looked obligingly under their seats anyway.

“Nope,” said Donna, popping the p – a habit she'd taken over from the Doctor. “We're toad-free.”

Susan chimed in. “My aunt said to find a prefect if I had a problem during the ride. Maybe you could tell your friend Neville to try one of them?”

Hannah bounced in her seat. “Oh, oh, wait, let me try something!”

The blonde closed her eyes, and went stiller than she had been during the whole train ride. When she opened her eyes again, she pointed to the front of the train. “Try two carriages that way, there's a toad there. But hurry, that is one curious little animal, he might not be there for a long time.”

The girl looked more than a little curious herself, but opted to hurry up and try to find the animal. Donna looked at Hannah. “How did you do that?”

The girl tugged at one of her pigtails. “It's my family magic,” she explained. “We have an affinity with magical animals. It's why many of us go into breeding or working for sanctuaries. It's fairly strong in me, so I can sort of feel nearby magical creatures. It helps that there aren't many toads on the train, they went out of style as familiars ages ago.”

“Nice one. How does family magic work then?”

Susan explained how certain families had an affinity for branches of magic, which was probably where the whole pureblood thing came from. If they knew where a witch or wizard was coming from, it was easier to determine how family magic would manifest in the heirs. 

Muggleborns had a wilder, freer magic, so the result was more unpredictable than the other way. There were some families who didn't mind letting muggleborns join their ranks, as they were more focused on continuing the family line, and reasoned that family magic which had died out through interbreeding could well return with that wildcard added to the mix.

Family magics didn't matter that much in Hogwarts, though, so other than knowing it was a thing, she didn't have to worry about it.

“Well, my family magic will be seer magic, because I predict that girl's going to be back here asking about that.”

Susan laughed. “You don't need seer blood for that, an ability to read people will work the spell.”

That reply sparked a lively discussion about wizarding versus muggle idioms, which was still going strong when the bushy-haired witch returned as predicted.

“Hi, I just wanted to say thanks for earlier, Trevor was where you said he'd be. How did you know? Was it a spell? Only I haven't read anything about a spell like that, and you didn't say any incantation or anything. Can you do silent casting? That's supposed to be quite rare. How did you learn to do it? Did someone teach you?”

By the time the girl paused to draw breath, Donna'd had enough. “Oy, sunshine, you're making me dizzy. Slow down and give the girl a chance to answer!”

Hannah cast her a grateful look. She'd wanted to say something, but she tended to go quiet when people acted confrontational, rather than interested, as Donna had been. Still, once the stream of questions ended in a blush – evidently she had realised she'd overstepped some boundary – she explained again willingly enough.

The girl settled in and asked some interesting questions. Whenever her mouth ran away with her, Donna nudged her, at which point she subsided and picked just one question to ask.

When there was a lull in the conversation, the girl looked at Hannah and fidgeted with the sleeve of her robe. “Look, I... I'm sorry about earlier. I ramble when I'm nervous.”

“We'd noticed,” Susan replied straight-faced. 

The girl smiled ruefully. “Okay, well, I just wanted to say, feel free to tell me if you notice me doing that. I'm not always aware of it until later.”

“I can do that,” said Donna. “I knew someone very much like you once. Well, he didn't get nervous too often, but when he got excited... Anyway, if we're going to get you to listen, we should at least know your name. I don't think you want to hear 'Oi, you!' all the time. I mean, no guarantees that won't be thrown in there, but it's nice to know.”

“Oh, right! Hermione Granger, how do you do.”

“Hello Hermione. I'm Donna Noble, and these two lovely ladies are Susan Bones and Hannah Abbot. Nice to meet you.”

Susan inclined her head, and Hannah waved enthusiastically. She probably did everything enthusiastically, Donna thought.

“So what are you nervous about, Hermione?” asked Susan, leaning forward a little. “We're not that terrifying to talk to, are we?”

“Oh! No, of course not, you seem like perfectly nice people. To be honest, it's just this whole situation. I mean, for years stuff would happen that I could just not explain, and then I turn eleven and suddenly it turns out I'm actually honest-to-god magical, you know? Even though I've had months to get used to the thought, it doesn't quite make up for 10 years of not knowing why I didn't fit. And now I'm actually on my way to a magic school and I'm just terrified that I won't fit in again, that it wasn't the magic, it was really me all along, and I have no idea why I'm telling you all of that, I don't usually bare my thoughts to people I've only just met.”

“Breathe, Hermione,” said Hannah. “Don't worry about not fitting in, we'll help you.”

Donna jumped in. “Yeah. If it's any consolation, I had no idea about the wizarding world until about two months ago, and I didn't even have the warning of accidental magic. Yes, I know that's unusual. Anyway, we muggleborns should stick together.”

Susan's thoughts had followed a different track. “It's the train,” she said. “The reason you're telling us, I mean. It's supposed to subtly encourage friendships, my aunt told me. I'm guessing your fears have been on your mind for some time and you just wanted to get it off your chest. We're probably the first people to ask you about it?”

Hermione nodded. “I did meet some people while looking for Trevor, but nobody told me... oh my god!” her eyes widened suddenly.

“What?”

“I just remembered... I met Harry Potter, and I just could not stop talking, I was about ten times worse than here. I just heard his name, knew I'd read about him, and started babbling, like he was just a character in a book, instead of an actual person sitting opposite me. I have to go apologise!”

She jumped up and reached for the door, but Donna grabbed her hand.

“Do it later,” she said, when Hermione looked at her. “State you're in, you'll only make it worse. Wait until you've calmed down a little – preferably after we've settled in at Hogwarts, and THEN go and apologise. I'll even come with if you need the moral support. Or, you know, the 'Oi, you!' as the case may be.”

“Right, you're right,” Hermione said as she took a deep breath and sat back down. “So... how does this train enchantment work then?”

Donna grinned and leaned back. Disaster averted.


	8. Chapter 7 - The Sorting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donna gets Sorted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The scene in the beginning is a little nod to how Hermione put an extension charm on a shoulder bag, rather than a backpack. She's gone native by then ;)

When the train nearly reached the end station, a prefect knocked on their door and told them to change into their uniforms. Donna quickly pulled down her backpack and rummaged through it to find her robes. Hermione looked at her. “Shrinking charm on your trunk?” she asked. Donna nodded. “Good, I'm not the only one then. It's like wizards have never heard of a backpack. What good is getting the option of shrinking your trunk if you're not even going to use it?”

“We haven't heard of it,” Hannah supplied. “What does it do?”

“Do? It... holds your stuff, what more do you want it to do? I'll show ya, look,” Donna said. She quickly put it on and showed her back to the two girls. “It frees your hands and the weight is distributed evenly, so it's better for your shoulders than carrying it in your hand.”

She put it back when the train slowed down, as a voice told them to leave their luggage. When they reached the platform, they looked around to try and see where they should go. Older students surged around them towards rows of carriages which seemed to be drawn by skeletal winged horses. Before she could ask about them, a booming voice called for the first years. The man whom the voice belonged to was taller than he had any right being.

“There seems to be a giant collecting us,” she told the others. 

A passing older student laughed. “Half-giant, actually,” he told her. “Bit of an open secret. That's Hagrid, he's alright.”

They followed the bearded man down a slippery path, to which Donna's flats were NOT suited, but the discomfort was quickly forgotten when they rounded a bend and there, on the other side of a lake, sprawled Hogwarts in all her turrety glory. She was magnificent, easily as impressive as some of the planets the Doctor had taken her to.

Hagrid ushered them all into boats. Once everyone was seated, they started gliding along the water without anyone steering. At one point the half-giant warned them to duck, but the opening through which they sailed was by far large enough for the average 11-year-old to pass through. In fact, Donna couldn't even reach the edge when she stretched her arm all the way up, and she wasn't so foolhardy as to stand up. She didn't fancy a dunk in the lake.

The little boats moored, and they followed along a passage cut into the rock. At least there was no running involved. _Yet_ , a little voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like the Doctor said.

They ended up in front of the castle doors, which opened to reveal professor McGonagall, her pointy hat sitting primly on her head and not a hair out of place. She looked very different in her emerald robes, compared to the muggle suit from her visit. Donna thought about waving, but decided against it. There was a time and a place for everything, and this was not it.

The throng of first years followed her into the entrance hall, across it and into a small chamber, where she turned around to face the nervous children. 

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” the professor started, before explaining how Hogwarts operated on a House system, and how they could earn points for good behaviour – or lose them for misbehaving. Then she left for a moment, to let them smarten up as much as possible. Donna and her new friends took turns judging each other to make sure they were presentable enough to stand in front of the entire school. 

Donna heard a nearby messy-haired boy ask his friend how they were sorted, with the answer being 'some sort of test'. Well, that wasn't vague at all, was it?

Hermione started muttering spells she knew. How did she know so many already, without the benefit of a tutor like Archie? That girl must have a phenomenal memory.

She linked her arm with the bushy-haired witch, interrupting the muttering. “Relax, sunshine. They won't ask us to do magic before they've taught us, I don't think.” If she said that loud enough that the boy (who was looking green at the thought of a test) could hear her and be a little bit reassured... well, all the better. At least it got Hermione to calm down. 

A moment later, they all whirled around at the sound of screams, to be met with the sight of... were those ghosts? Actual, honest-to-god, talking and walking (well, floating) ghosts, who could pass through walls but also interact with the living – as evidenced by their welcoming of the first years. If the Doctor were here, he'd be having a field day – probably sonic the living daylights out of them. She grinned at the thought.

Shortly after, professor McGonagall came back to fetch them. She had them stand in a line, and Donna had to work to swallow a snort that tried to escape. She covered it up with a cough. If all these fantastical happenings gave the whole thing a bit of a surreal feeling, this right here, the line forming in front and behind her, convinced her that she really was back in a school.

The feeling disappeared again when they entered the Great Hall and she gawked at the inside sky, stars dotting the blackness above them. “It's bewitched to look like the sky outside,” Hermione told her. “I read about it in Hogwarts, a History.”

Donna tore her eyes away from the ceiling and the floating candles to look at the girl.

“Hermione, d'you know how sometimes a film feels almost magical, but then you start seeing the strings and it loses just a bit of its shine? Yeah... don't show me the strings, please.”

Professor McGonagall placed a stool in front of them, and Donna narrowed her eyes. She couldn't have done that when she'd left them alone earlier? She called foul! She suspected a set-up, with McGonagall standing just on the other side of the door to hear their reactions to the ghostly appearances. 

On the stool, she placed a tattered and frayed wizard's hat – an oddly central place for an accessory. The reason why soon became clear, as a rip opened near the brim, and it... sang a song. Because why the hell not, right?

So apparently the Sorting happened by putting on the ancient and probably lice-ridden piece of headwear, and it decided (somehow) to which House you belonged. The more Donna learned about the wizarding world, the more she was convinced that wizards, if asked why they did the things they did, looked at each other, shrugged and said, “Because Magic.”

Hannah was the first to be called, and was quickly sorted into Hufflepuff. Donna, Susan and Hermione clapped enthusiastically along with the yellow table – she and Susan both wanted to go there, they'd said on the train. 

Hermione had preferred Gryffindor, 'because she'd heard it was the best'. That girl needed to learn to think for herself, instead of rehashing other people's opinions endlessly, be it from books or hearsay. She was young yet, though. She'd learn soon enough that books were useful tools, but ultimately written by humans and thus not infallible. 

Donna herself didn't have a preference, although from what she'd learned so far of the Houses, she was far too direct to go to Slytherin, and not nearly studious – or... academic? Was that the right word? – enough for Ravenclaw. Not that she was unintelligent, far from it, but she had other priorities. Hufflepuff or Gryffindor though... well, that could be a toss-up. Loyalty and hard work were important ( _”Best temp in Chiswick!”_ ) but so was doing the right thing, no matter the cost ( _“Just someone, please. Not the whole town. Just save someone!”_ ).

Susan soon joined her friend, and one by one the first years were divided among four tables. Hermione went to Gryffindor, so she had her wish as well. Neville Longbottom – unfortunate name, that – went to Gryffindor as well. Trevor the Toad must be his then. At least, she hadn't heard any other Nevilles come by.

After Lily Moon had gone to Slytherin, it was Donna's turn. She marched up to the hat and placed it on her head, thinking somewhat ruefully that they never had made it to that planet of hats after all.

“Well, well, well. You are an interesting one,” she heard a voice in her mind say. Well, that was different. Not only could it compose bad poetry and sing it to a school, but it could also read the thoughts of whoever put it on.

“That's a violation of privacy, that is! Don't they have laws against this sort of thing? GDPR, maybe? No wait, too early for GDPR, nevermind.”

“Don't worry, miss Noble,” said the voice, “anything I find out is kept strictly confidential. Not even the Headmaster can make me talk.”

“Oh, good. So how's this work then?”

“I look at your personality, and your potential, and based on a combination of the two I formulate which House would best suit you and help you grow. Let's take a look, shall we?

“Well, there's a lot more for me to work with than usual, is there not? So many more years of memories and experiences showing or growing your character. And what's this? There's another set of memories?”

“No. You don't look at those. They're not mine, even if they're in my head. Leave them alone.”

“Alright then, Mrs. Temple-Noble. I must say, you know yourself quite well, do you not? Yes, I see that Slytherin and Ravenclaw are out, but the other two... which would you prefer?”

“Oi, I'm not doing your job for you!”

The Hat chuckled. “Hardly, Mrs. McAvoy, but when a student is as evenly matched for two houses as yourself, I do take their choice into consideration.”

Donna thought for a moment, but in the end there was really only one choice for her.

_A junction, a van. A step out into the road. An indicator changes from right to left._

“Yes, I see. You are right. Good day... DoctorDonna.”

She was alone in her head again – relatively speaking – while the Hat announced her as a Gryffindor. She placed it back on the stool and went to join a grinning Hermione.

Shortly after, the professor called for “Potter, Harry!”, and the boy she'd noticed earlier came up. A wave of tension travelled through the hall, people whispering and craning their necks to see him. 

“Wasn't he the kid you were freaking out about earlier on the train?” she asked Hermione, who nodded. “Scrawny, isn't he? What's the deal with him?”

“When he was one, a dark Wizard tried to murder him. Nobody knows exactly what happened, but the end result was that his parents were dead, he was alive, and the wizard was gone. He's been a celebrity ever since. He's mentioned in several history books, and there's a whole range of children's novels about him.”

“Oh, right! I think professor McGonagall said something about that, though I don't think she mentioned him by name.”

Time dragged on as the boy sat under the Hat. Finally he, too, came to Gryffindor. After him there were just a couple of kids left to be Sorted. Once everyone was seated, an old, bearded wizard with eye-wateringly bright robes stood up to welcome them to another year. 

Donna looked at him skeptically before turning to Hermione. “Alright, so what's with Gandalf there, then?” she asked, at the same time that Harry asked a redhead, “is he a bit mad?”

The redhead nodded. “A brilliant wizard, but quite mad, yes.”

“That's the Headmaster, professor Dumbledore,” Hermione answered Donna's question. “He defeated Grindelwald in a duel, which eventually led to the end of the second world war, I understand, although these wizarding books hardly even mention Hitler by name.”

While they were talking, the table suddenly groaned under the weight of a variety of foods. Donna filled her plate, although she didn't pile it high. The food did not look as if it would disappear any time soon, so she could always get a second helping if she wanted.

At least, she would if Harry Potter's redheaded friend would leave anything for the rest of the table. God, his table manners were atrocious. She hadn't heard the boy's name during the Sorting, as she'd been wondering what House the Doctor might be in. She didn't think Hufflepuff would quite know how to handle his particular brand of chaos, but the other three... a case could be made for all three. There was no doubting his righteousness and bravery, but he had his devious streak and the smarts to go with it. 

Not knowing a name had never stopped her before though, and it wasn't going to now.

“Oi, Red! Chew properly before you swallow. Honestly, d'you eat like that where your mother can see you?”

He mouthed 'Red?' with a mouth full of sausage, but it was another redhead – no wait, two of them – that answered.

“He really does,” one of them said.

“To our mother's great despair,” the other continued.

“Deep down, he's a really good kid...”

“... but he has trouble showing it.”

“An uncouth youth...”

“so to speak.”

Donna looked back and forth at the rapid-fire exchange. “How many of you are there?”

“Ah, fair lady, that depends entirely on whom you might mean...”

“... when you say 'you'.”

“If you mean devilishly handsome...”

“...not to mention funny...”

“... Weasley's, well, we're one of a kind.”

“Two of a kind, brother of mine.”

(Somewhere in Time and Space, Martha Jones felt a shiver run down her spine.)

“Two of a kind. But, Weasley brothers at Hogwarts,”

“Which, I believe, is what you are asking,”

“That would be 4.”

“And Weasley siblings is 7.”

“Alright, alright!” Donna interrupted. “You're making me even dizzier than Hermione did. What are your names then, Tweedledum and Tweedledee?”

Hermione laughed, and interestingly enough, so did a black boy who was sitting close-by enough to have overheard her comment. She wondered for a moment exactly how many muggleborns there were.

The twins didn't react to the names, so they at least were wizard-raised.

“I'm Fred,” one of them answered her question.

“Or are you?” the other continued.

The first one shrugged. “Well if I'm not, then I'm George.”

“Our little brother over there is Ron,”

“Also known as ickle Ronniekins,”

“And perfect prefect Percy is sitting over there,” Fred-or-George indicated the young man who had answered Harry's question earlier.

“Bill and Charlie have graduated,” George-or-Fred waved a hand dismissively.

“And ickle Ginniekins is starting next year.”

“Don't tell her we called her that, though.”

“She is scary!” Fred-or-George finished in a stage whisper.

A realisation had been dawning at the quick back-and-forth, and it hit when they were finished. “Oh God, you're the class clowns, aren't you?”

Fred-or-George looked at his brother, then back at Donna. “I don't know what clowns are,”

“But from the way you said that,”

“Yes.” they ended in unison.

“You don't know what clowns... what do you wizarding types _do_ for entertainment? Let me guess, the circus is too muggleish? Remind me to take you to one some time, no childhood is complete without at least one visit to a proper travelling circus.”

“And the whole sleeping bum after two hours on a hard bench part?” the black boy asked.

Donna waved her hand. “All part of the experience.”

When the talk at the table turned to families, Donna kept a bit more quiet. 'Muggleborn' was an easy explanation, but she wasn't quite that, was she. Her current theory involved the regenaration triggering something that allowed her access to magic, but who knew really? She didn't really want to field questions about not having had accidental magic, or why she was living with a guardian rather than her parents. She might eventually reveal the whole 'coming from the future' thing, but not until she really trusted someone. Her knowledge could be dangerous in the wrong hands, even if it was knowledge of the muggle future. For now it was safer locked in her head behind a thick stainless steel cog door much like the one used in the Torchwood hub.

The Doctor had taught her that, although she couldn't for the life of her remember if he'd physically taught her, or if it was a DoctorDonna acquired skill. Point was, if anyone tried to touch that information without her permission, she'd know.

She did look consideringly at Neville of the unfortunate last name, when he explained how his family had nearly killed him several times before he showed his magic. She wondered if that was normal behaviour for these wizarding types. Would they really rather have dead kids than ones without magic? It did explain somewhat the kid's nervous air. If she'd been raised to believe her family's love depended on her having magic, she might be a nervous wreck too. 

Mind you, she didn't have much room to talk. Silvia's love had always seemingly depended on one thing or another, but at least she'd had her grampa Wilf and his eternal optimism. And even Silvia had been a bit better after the Doctor had erased her memories, but of course by then she'd been fully grown and not quite so malleable as she'd been as a child.

Then again, her coping mechanism back then had been sass – lots and lots of sass – so she might not even be quite such a nervous wreck. Perhaps she ought to take the kid under her wing, teach him the joys of sarcasm. It might not help, but at least people would be less likely to underestimate him. Or he might not be interested in befriending her – for all she knew he was still at the stage where he thought girls had cooties. Did 11-year-olds still think that? She had no idea, her own first childhood was that long ago, and her children and even grandchildren had long outgrown that stage.

Once the desserts were cleared away, Gandalf – no, wait, Dumbledore – stood up again and gave some announcements, ending with a corridor being forbidden, die a painful death, yadda yadda. Donna leaned back and crossed her arms. She'd travelled through time and space with the Doctor, and she had centuries worth of his memories locked inside her brain. If those things had taught her one thing, it was that anything forbidden... well, it needed investigating, didn't it. She'd just have to decide who to ask with her on that little adventure. She looked at Dumbledore through narrowed eyes. Challenge accepted.

And then a golden ribbon appeared from Dumbledore's wand and wrote a song in the air. Mad or genius – or both – but boy was that one ostentatious wizard.

For form's sake she sang along, more or less to the tune of a song from far in the future, on another planet, one which she heard sometimes in the dusky land between waking and sleeping.

Fred and George were the last to finish, and then finally, finally they were allowed to leave for their respective common rooms. Donna followed the other first years with only a quick wave when she spotted Hannah and Susan. She'd find them later, maybe at breakfast tomorrow. First she needed sleep. Stupid child's body, not used to anything.

Despite how tired she was, she paid close attention to the way they were going. During her time with the Doctor, finding her way back to the TARDIS was a critical skill to have, as it might just save your life taking the correct turn. Knowing the way to the Great Hall might not be quite so urgent, but she needed her breakfast in the morning, dammit! 

Their way was interrupted once with the appearance of some walking sticks, which started pelting Percy. They turned out to belong to a poltergeist called Peeves. Man, the Doctor would have a field day in this castle! Ghosts and poltergeists and magic (oh my!). If her theory about her magic was correct, he might even be able to bypass all the muggle-repelling wards the castle was supposed to have, what with those superior Time Lord senses he liked to boast about.

Then Peeves was gone, they'd found the Gryffindor common room, and they were led to their beds, where their trunks (and two backpacks) were already waiting for them.

Donna quickly resized her trunk, changed into her pyjamas and went to brush her teeth, and then fell into the bed next to Hermione. She was asleep before she could mumble good night.


	9. Chapter 8 - Malfoy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting a certain blond git.

Donna awoke the next morning feeling refreshed, which was a pleasant surprise. Normally her first night in an unknown bed was not nearly this restful. It helped that her mattress felt just right, not too soft but not too hard either. She suspected magic.

It was still fairly early, but she wasn't even the first one awake. That honor went to Hermione, who was sitting up in bed, reading a book. She'd even changed into her school uniform already, although her bushy hair hardly looked as if it had seen a brush.

“Good morning, Hermione.”

The only answer she received was a vague hand wave and a turning page. Well, that wouldn't do, now would it? First she took care of her morning ablutions and jumped into her clothes. Then she plopped herself down next to Hermione and plucked the book from her hand.

“I said, good morning, Hermione.”

The girl looked up, blinking a bit from refocusing. “Oh, sorry, Donna. I was just rereading Hogwarts: a History. It's just such a fascinating book, don't you think?”

“Not nearly fascinating enough to be reading it at seven in the morning, and certainly not if it's your second read-through.”

“Fourth,” Hermione corrected her.

“... Really? And you don't know it by heart yet? No, what we need to do something about is your hair.”

Hermione's hand lifted up to touch the wild curls. “What's wrong with my hair? It always looks like this, I can't really do much with it.”

“There's nothing wrong with it, as such, but... look, being a woman is a fine balancing act. You are beautiful and smart, but you are also so much more than just your looks or your intelligence. All that doesn't mean you can't take some pride in your appearance. Besides, we have magic now.”

She looked up when one of their roommates emerged from her bed. “Oh, hi! Parvati, right?” she asked.

“Oh, good morning. Yes, I'm Parvati. Sorry, I don't think I quite caught your name yesterday.”

“I'm Donna Noble, this is Hermione Granger. Listen, Parvati. You look like a knowledgeable person. Would you happen to know some kind of charm to tame Goldilocks here?”

Hermione glanced at her. “My hair is brown.”

Donna waved the objection away and looked expectantly at Parvati.

Before the girl could answer, another head popped out from between red hangings. “Did someone say hair charms? Hold on, I'm coming over!”

And then there were four girls sitting on Hermione's bed, as Lavender Brown had joined them eagerly. Hermione looked a bit taken aback at the sudden attention. “I... I don't usually put a lot of time into my hair, to be honest.”

“It's ok, Hermione. You don't have to turn into some kind of wizarding fashionista, just a couple of judiciously applied charms should do the trick. It'll do wonders for your self-esteem, you'll see.”

“Ok then, I guess.” The response was less than enthusiastic, but it was good enough for Donna, who turned to the other girls.

“Ladies?”

Lavender and Parvati conferred quickly, but they soon agreed on the right charm, which they taught the other two. Once the charm was applied, Donna braided Hermione's hair. She'd leave her own loose for now, as the charm would make sure it didn't tangle for most of the day.

Snapping a butterfly hairband in place, she regarded her work critically, then nodded in satisfaction. “There, that should hold for a while. Now who's up for some breakfast?”

“Sure,” replied Lavender, “but let us get ready first. We only just woke up.”

Donna noticed that Hermione walked towards the Great Hall as confidently as she herself did. Somehow, she doubted that the girl had learned to navigate places quite in the same manner, so she was curious how she did it.

She was spared asking the question, since Parvati beat her to it. “We're in the Entrance Hall! How did you do that? We'd've gotten lost for sure.”

Hermione shrugged a little awkwardly. “I just sort of remember things easily. That includes the way I've gone before.”

So, sort of like an eidetic memory then, although it could just be an unconscious magic thing. “I just paid attention yesterday,” she said, to take the attention off Hermione, who seemed a little self-conscious about her good memory. Donna wondered if she was ashamed of it, or if it was just something else that set her apart from her peers.

“Cor, I couldn't have done that, even if I'd paid attention,” said Lavender. “The whole way looked different from yesterday.”

Donna nodded. “It usually does. I can teach you what to pay attention to, if you want. It's a skill like any other, and this castle is a good place to practice.”

The Great Hall, when they entered it, was a lot emptier than last night, although more people were coming in by the minute. Donna spotted Susan and Hannah at the Hufflepuff table, but they were surrounded by people already, so she contented herself with another quick wave. She'd have to catch up with them some time today.

While they were eating, professor McGonagall came around with their schedules. After liberally spreading butter and jam on her toast – real butter too, she noticed, none of that margarine crap that had been marketed as 'healthier' at one point, until it was proven otherwise – she studied the schedule.

Then she looked up at the head table, where most of the staff were present. With a bit of a frown, she looked back down, doing a quick calculation in her head (courtesy of the DoctorDonna, calculations went quite a bit faster than they used to). She found herself wondering how the school managed to run with just one teacher per subject for all seven years. Seemed like there shouldn't be enough hours in a week to make it work. Then she shrugged mentally and decided to chalk it up to magic. They were grown people, they could fight their own battles. She had other things to worry about.

“Hey, Hermione,” she said. 

The bushy-haired witch looked up from her perusal of the schedule. “Hmm?”

“Didn't you have something to do?”

Hermione looked confused for a moment, until Donna nodded her head towards the place at the Gryffindor table where Harry Potter had sat down, next to the Weasley boy whose name she couldn't remember right now.

“Oh, right.” The girl took a deep breath.

“I'll be right next to you. You can even hold my hand if you want.”

Hermione laughed. “No thanks, but it's nice of you to offer. Just... don't let my mouth run away with me?”

Donna nodded with a grin. “You got it. Now go apologise.”

With another breath, Hermione stood up and walked purposefully over to the two boys. The Weasley was the first one to notice her, and he nudged his friend.

“Hi, Harry. I... uhm... I wanted to say sorry... about yesterday? On the train? Someone pointed out to me that I was being rather insensitive, so... sorry about that.”

She hesitated for a moment, as if debating whether to continue, but then she pressed her lips together and nodded once.

Harry looked at her with wide green eyes behind his glasses. Donna thought he looked a bit like a deer caught in headlights, unable to decide which was the safer option, staying or fleeing.

“That... that's alright. Er. Hermione, right?”

The girl nodded, but before she could say anything, a voice drawled behind them.

“Fraternising with the enemy, Potter? I already knew you preferred the company of blood-traitors, but I didn't realise you'd sunk that low.”

Donna turned around to coolly observe the blond boy with the pointy face who had addressed Harry. She had a temper on her when she got riled up, but the sight that met her was too pathetic to get worked up about. Chest puffed up self-importantly, silver-and-green tie proudly on display, hair immaculately in place. A lot of wind, but she doubted there'd be much substance there. He was flanked by two boys whose aim in life seemed to be to become gorillas.

From the corner of her eye she could see Harry get ready to reply – heatedly, if his clenched jaw was anything to go by. She was first though.

“Did we ask for your opinion? Run along now.”

The boy spluttered impressively. Eventually he took a deep breath and glared at her. “Do you know who I am?” he asked.

“No, and I don't particularly care.”

“My father will hear about this!”

She raised her eyebrows. “By all means, go tell your father you need his help besting an 11-year-old girl on the first day of school, see how that goes over. Now shoo.”

She turned back to the others, ignoring the blond peacock. Harry and the Weasley – she had to find out his name at some point, she knew Fred and George had said it, but it had gotten lost in all the other information she'd had to process yesterday – were openly laughing, while Hermione hid her smile behind her hand. Donna wasn't sure if the restraint came from a lifetime of being bullied (she hadn't said it, but her comment about fitting in yesterday was an indicator) or a lifetime of being told to keep her emotions in check – because Ladies don't do this or that or whatever, there was always something. Donna knew them all, Silvia had spouted that nonsense for any occasion until Donna had said 'Screw that, I'm not a lady' and went on to do her own thing, which had made her a lot happier.

“Ha! That was brill!” the Weasley exclaimed.

Donna shrugged. “He'll be back. I know the type. I don't think he has much experience with being dismissed. Who was he, anyway?”

“His name is Draco Malfoy,” answered Harry. “I'm not sure what that means exactly, except rich and snooty.”

“Hmm. Still not impressed. Now, where were we?” she asked, dismissing Draco from her thoughts.


	10. Chapter 9 - Snape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first Potions class.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the people who have been waiting for Snape. Don't worry, there's a better confrontation coming ;)

The first week of classes went by in the blink of an eye. Professor McGonagall did not tolerate shenanigans in her classroom, and while Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was somewhat excitable, falling from his stack of books when he came across Harry Potter's name, once he got down to business he showed that he had his subject down pat. 

Binns from History of Magic, on the other hand, while he might know a bit about history, had the world's most boring voice to try and get his point across. He must have been like that before dying as well. It was a shame, really, because history was fascinating. Well, more fascinating if you could live it, but still. She'd love a module comparing Magical with Mundane history, because she refused to believe wizards could exist in a vacuum, much as they might want to.

Just look at that Grindelwald war they talked about during the Welcome Feast. So many victims made by Hitler, and he barely warranted a footnote in the magical history books.

Herbology with professor Sprout was interesting enough, although Donna didn't have a green thumb now any more than she did before. She did like the matronly woman, who seemed like the type of person who could bring out the best in everyone.

Before she knew it, Friday rolled around and they had their first Potions class, together with Slytherin. The group naturally divided along the House line, with the Slytherins taking the right side of the classroom and the Gryffindors the left.

Sitting next to Hermione, Donna looked around at the various glass jars standing on shelves along the wall. They seemed to contain animals, although she'd rather not guess which ones. Some even looked like embryos. She hoped they were not going to use those in this class.

Shortly after they were all seated, professor Snape entered the classroom and immediately took the roll call. Right after Donna Noble, he paused for a moment.

“Ah yes,” he said softly, “Harry Potter. Our new... celebrity.”

Donna frowned. There was real malice in the way he said that, as if Harry had personally offended him. Hard to believe, that. He was a nice kid, if a bit shy and awkward.

After the roll call, he started a speech that sounded as if he used it every year, ending with a lovely little insult to the classroom in general. Charming.

And then he went back to glaring at Harry, asking him about asphodel and wormwood. The boy looked perplexed, while Hermione's hand shot up into the air. Donna saw Snape's eyes flick over to the girl and then back at Harry. She reached out and took Hermione's wrist, bringing her hand down. The girl looked startled for a moment, shooting her a questioning look.

“Not now,” whispered Donna. She didn't want to say more, in case Snape heard her.

When Harry admitted to not knowing the answer, Snape asked about a bezoar. Donna wasn't sure, but she thought he might just be making up words at this point. Maybe not, though, considering the way Hermione was quivering in her seat. Donna could see her hand itching to shoot back up, but she managed to restrain herself admirably.

Again, Harry had to confirm his ignorance, and Snape immediately followed it up with the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane. Finally, a question Donna knew the answer to! Only thanks to the benefit of her many years, though. She wouldn't have known that the first time she was 11, either.

Hermione was practically bouncing in her seat now, but a warning elbow in her side calmed her down a little.

“I don't know,” Harry said for the third time. “I think someone else might have the answer, though. Why don't you try Hermione?”

Oh, backtalk. She couldn't even blame the boy, she'd have done the same thing if she'd been singled out like that. Snape wouldn't like it though, as evidenced by the point he took from Gryffindor for cheek.

With a wave of his wand, instructions appeared on the blackboard, and he told them to gather supplies and get to work. Really? That was it? Literally their first class and not a word about theory? Basic safety precautions? Proper tool maintenance? Alright then.

While she worked together with Hermione, she decided her impression from the beginning of class was right. Snape had it out for Harry, with an intensity that seemed unwarranted for what little interaction they'd had in the first week of school.

“Why did you stop me raising my hand earlier?” Hermione whispered when Snape was busy at the other end of the classroom and they had to wait for five minutes before stirring anti-clockwise.

“There was no way he was going to let you answer. He was trying to humiliate Harry. Might as well save yourself the trouble. How did you know the answers to his questions anyway?”

“Oh, I read about it. I think it might have been the third year syllabus?”

“You've already got the third year books? Nevermind, not the important part. The point is, you don't think it strange that he'd ask a first year a question from a third year book?”

Before Hermione could answer, a hissing sound came from behind, followed by acid green smoke. In short order, Snape had banished the mess, Neville was being led to the hospital wing, and Harry had been docked another point for not warning Neville, because... she didn't know, he should have been paying attention to two cauldrons or something?

“Oh, we have to stop each other making mistakes, when some of us have never made a potion before in our lives? Silly me, I thought we had a teacher for that.”

Snape, who had gone to the front of the class, had evidently heard. He whirled around and narrowed his eyes at her. “That will be one point for insolence, miss Noble.”

She gave him an unimpressed stare. She had a point, and he knew it. You could not expect first years to know in their first lesson when someone else made a mistake. Especially if you weren't going to explain anything to them.

After the lesson, Donna dragged Hermione with her to McGonagall's office. She wondered again how the woman could be there now. With her schedule, she ought to not even have time for sleep, let alone down-time from teaching. 

Then she pushed the thought away as unimportant. She was on a mission.

“Enter,” professor McGonagall's voice said after Donna had knocked. She was sitting behind her desk, but she put down her quill when she saw the two girls.

“Miss Noble, miss Granger. How can I help you?”

Donna approached the desk, while Hermione stayed a step behind. “I want to lodge a formal complaint against a teacher. What is the proper procedure for this?”

Professor McGonagall leaned back and pursed her lips in displeasure. “I know your schedule, miss Noble. I can guess the teacher. Please tell me what happened.”

And so she explained – about the third year questions, and the scathing remarks that apparently had to pass for teaching, about the accident and how Snape apparently expected a first year to monitor his peers.

Professor McGonagall wrote everything down and had her sign the document. She promised to talk to professor Snape about his behaviour, although he would not hear who had complained.

Despite that promise, Donna had a sinking feeling that she would be lodging more complaints before the term was over. Perhaps it was not much, and one complaint – or several coming from one source – might not lead to any action, but if nobody said anything, that would definitely have the same outcome. 

If nobody listened to an 11-year-old, she could always get Jack and Archie to kick up a fuss. Archie for his contacts in the wizarding world, and Jack because he usually got what he wanted when he ratcheted up the charm. Or maybe they could help her figure out a different solution.


	11. Chapter 10 - Neville

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for flying lessons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Neville is a better friend then Ron, and you can't convince me otherwise.

Shortly after that first week, they found a notice in the common room that they were to have flying lessons on Thursday. Together with Slytherin.

“Good god, who thought that was a good idea?” was Donna's remark when she heard the news. Even with the short exposure to the wizarding world that she'd had, she knew the rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin was fierce. 

She could just imagine Gand... Dumbledore going, “I'm bored. What is the best recipe for fireworks I can think of?”

That Thursday she found herself standing in line, Harry on one side and Hermione on the other, with a broom lying on the ground next to her. She almost let out a giggle – how cliché! She wasn't sure if she'd be able to stop a cackle from escaping once she was actually in the air. 

Madam Hooch, their teacher, instructed them to stick out their hand and say 'up'. When Donna did as instructed, the handle of her broom lifted up a bit, but the bristles remained firmly on the ground.

A quick glance around told her that only a few people had their broom in hand, one of them being Harry. Hermione, on the other hand, had only succeeded in rolling hers over.

Donna glared at her broom. She was not going to be bested by a household implement. She stuck out her hand deliberately and glared at it again for good measure. “Listen, you jumped-up piece of kindlewood. I said UP!”

The result this time was more satisfying. Her broom jumped up and slapped into her hand with a thwack. She nodded firmly, and followed madam Hooch's instruction on how to mount it.

And then things went south. Instead of waiting for the signal, Neville kicked off and rapidly rose, holding his broom in a death grip, until he started slipping sideways. 

Madam Hooch's demand to come back down was singularly unhelpful. She couldn't arrest his fall, or soften the ground, or something? Anything? Donna refused to believe this was the first accident ever in flying class. Maybe Hooch was new to teaching?

This interpretation seemed even more likely when the woman took Neville to the hospital wing herself, leaving a bunch of 11-year-olds unsupervised in the process. Donna wanted to bash her head against the nearest surface, but she settled for a facepalm. Sending another student and continuing the class was too logical? She could have asked Seamus, he'd had to take Neville to the hospital wing that first Potions lesson, he knew the way. 

Her fears soon became reality when Malfoy found something of Neville's, a glass ball that she vaguely remembered him receiving that morning. She hadn't been paying attention, caught up in trying to get Hermione to stop quoting that book, Quidditch through the Ages. Some posturing later, Malfoy flew off with it and taunted Harry to come and get it.

Harry of course took up the challenge, jumping on his broom and chasing Malfoy to where he was hovering. They were too far up to hear what they were saying, but the end result was a Remembrall in freefall and Harry heading on a collision course straight for earth. Donna might have screamed just a little bit, although she would deny it for the rest of her days, but the boy managed to brake about a foot above the ground, and he'd even caught the stupid glass ball.

Had that really been worth the risk to his life? She was about to head over and give him a piece of her mind, but professor McGonagall had apparently seen the whole thing – or the end result anyway – and came out to take Harry away. Donna hoped he wouldn't get expelled. There should be some kind of consequence for that whole risking a broken neck thing, but he'd done it in defense of a classmate, and that ought to count for something. And Malfoy should be punished too, for instigating the whole thing.

After Harry had gone, the students milled around for a bit, until Madam Hooch came back to finish the lesson.

As they found out later during dinner, Harry was not at all punished, and neither was Malfoy. Harry risking his neck had resulted in his getting a place on the Quidditch team, even though first years weren't even supposed to have a broom.

Just after Harry finished telling them his news, Malfoy was standing behind them. What was with that kid? Obsessed with Harry didn't even begin to cover it. And he was issuing a challenge. Wizard's duel at midnight? That kid? She'd eat her hat if he actually showed. He wouldn't risk getting caught outside after curfew, which meant it was a trap.

Hermione piped up to talk about the house points they could lose, but Donna could see Harry and Ron would not be swayed by that argument.

“Who cares about house points,” she interrupted before either of the boys could answer. “The question is, why would you walk into such an obvious trap? D'you honestly think little lord Fauntleroy there is going to show his pointy nose? And even if he does, what will you do, light your wand at him? Lumos is the only charm we've learned yet, but I can guarantee you Daddy dearest didn't care one whit about the Trace. You want to beat him, learn something better than sparks first.”

Harry looked thoughtful, until Ron spoke up.

“Come on, Harry, it's none of their business! This is your chance to beat Malfoy!”

“No, its not, Red! Didn't you listen? Either he shows up and beats you, because he cheated, or he doesn't and you'll have risked discovery for nothing.

“Look, I get that we're Gryffindors, righteous and brave and all that rot, but the hat said nothing about being stupid about it. You wanna have a pissing contest with Malfoy, fine, be my guest, but not tonight!

This time Harry did look as though her words were getting through to him.

“Maybe you're right,” he said to Ron's obvious displeasure.

“I still think you shouldn't duel Malfoy at all,” said Hermione.

Donna shrugged. “It's his choice, Hermione. Anyway! I have a better idea. Anyone up for a little exploring this weekend? I mean, this place is HUGE, and I've only seen a very small part of it.”

Specifically, she wanted to find out what was in the third floor corridor that warranted such a warning, because her Doctor-sense was tingling, but she didn't think mentioning that little tidbit right now would do her any favours, what with Hermione's regard for the rules. She'd have to ease the other girl into it – or find a different partner in crime if she couldn't.

Harry grinned at her. “I'm game. The castle is amazing, I wouldn't mind seeing something other than classrooms for a change. Ron, you'll come too, right?

The redhead grumbled for a moment, still put out that he had been overruled, but then he relented. “Yeah, 'course I'll come,” he answered Harry's question. “Can't let you go alone, can I?”

Donna grinned back. “Great! Hermione, you're in?”

Hermione nodded primly. “Sure, so long as we don't break any rules.”

Yeah... that's what she was afraid of. Much easing to be done. Ah well, if she couldn't convince Hermione to check it out, she could always enlist the Weasley twins. With their brand of chaos they must have made plans to sneak a peek at the famous corridor already.

While she finished her pudding, two hands suddenly covered her eyes. “Guess who!” a gleeful voice shouted in her ear.

“Malfoy!” she shouted back just as gleefully. Hannah released her as she collapsed into giggles. 

“Really? That peacock? Take care, you, or my father will hear about this!”

She stuck her nose in the air in a passable imitation of the blond boy, despite her bouncing pig tails.

“Oh no, not your father! Spare me!”

They both laughed, while Susan shook her head with an amused smile.

“Listen,” she said when Hannah and Donna had calmed down a little, “we feel like we've hardly seen you since school started. Do you want to hang out some time?”

“Yeah, sure! Sorry, this whole House system doesn't really support inter-house friendships, does it? We'll have to put some effort in if we want to stay friends. Actually, I wanted to go see if Neville is alright – he fell off his broomstick earlier today, broke his wrist. Wanna come with?”

Hannah nodded, but when Donna looked at Hermione, the other girl shook her head. “I was hoping to go to the library,” she answered. “Tell Neville I said hi?”

“Will do. Harry, Ron?”

Ron was the one to answer. “Why? He'll be fine. He's practically a Squib anyway.”

Donna looked steadily at the boy, until he flushed as red as his hair.

“Because he's your classmate, and it's the nice thing to do? I don't know what a Squib is, but it doesn't sound like it has anything to do with checking on someone who _broke his wrist_! 

Ron stood up angrily. “Whatever, nobody asked you anyway,” he said, ignoring the fact that he had. “Come on, Harry, let's go to the common room.”

Donna wondered what the kid's problem was, until she remembered that he was an 11-year-old, apparently with a chip on his shoulder. She just hoped he'd grow up a bit in a couple of years.

Harry stood up too, albeit more hesitantly than his friend. It almost looked like he might like to join them. He looked from them to where Ron was stalking towards the exit, apparently convinced that his words had been enough to summon Harry. 

“You're allowed to have more than one friend, Harry,” she told him softly. Ron would not like her saying that, but she was beyond caring about his feelings. He shouldn't have stormed off then, should he? Harry looked as though he could use all the friends he could make, and Ron would just have to learn how to share.

By now, Ron had noticed Harry wasn't following him, and he'd turned around with clenched fists. “Harry, come on! Let's go!” he practically yelled across the Great Hall. Harry flushed, hunched his shoulders a little bit, and darted his eyes across the Hall to see who might be paying attention to them. Then he frowned a little, looked one more time between the boy who seemed to think he could command him and the girls who were waiting patiently for his decision, and quite deliberately turned his back. 

“Yeah, I'll come with,” he said to the girls.

Donna stood up and grinned at him. “Brilliant. Ladies, gentleman... Allons-y!”

Together they proceeded out of the Great Hall and towards the infirmary. It seemed that Ron hadn't stuck around after the obvious snub, as he was nowhere to be seen. She hoped he wouldn't take out his anger on Harry too much. Perhaps she ought to recruit some of the Gryffindor boys to help keep an eye on things. Harry was his own person, and was allowed to make his own decisions, but Ron might need a little push to realise that.

“So what's a Squib, anyway?” she asked as they climbed up the stairs. She frowned as Susan explained how some magical parents produced non-magical offspring. That was Ron's excuse for not visiting Neville? Because he had apparently a bit less than average magic?”

“Wizards use the most offensive-sounding words, don't they? I mean, honestly... Squib? Muggle? What is up with that?”

“They're just words, though, Donna,” said Hannah. “We have to call them something.”

“Ok, but words have power, Hannah. Unless you want to tell me that you won't flinch when you hear the name Voldemort?”

The blonde nicely proved her point. “See? Only in the case of Muggle and Squib, the word doesn't invoke fear – and don't ask me why, it's a ridiculous name – but contempt, like they're less than wizards for not having magic. They're not, believe you me. They're inventing things you wouldn't even dream of, all without magic. Yes, you must call them something, but why not use a neutral term, like... I don't know, mundane? Not perfect either, but loads better than Muggle.”

“We're here,” Susan interrupted her rant, pointing at the wooden door in front of them. Above the door hung a wood-carved decoration, reading “Hospital Wing” in elegant script. Susan knocked on the door and waited for the medi-witch to open it. When she did, Donna showed her most winning smile. 

“Hi! We were wondering if we could visit Neville?” 

Madam Pomfrey smiled back and opened the door wider. “You may, come in. Neville will be able to return to Gryffindor tower shortly.”

The pudgy boy was sitting in one of the beds, eating his dinner from a tray hovering over his lap. Magic was awesome.

“Hiya, Neville!” She plonked her arse down on the end of his bed, while Hannah and Susan sat down on the bed to his left, and Harry took the chair, sitting on the edge as if he wasn't quite sure of his welcome.

Neville was looking at them as if he had not been expecting anyone to come over – and wasn't that a sad thought all by itself.

“Uhm. Hi... Donna. Wh... what are you doing here?”

Theory confirmed.

“Visiting you, of course. These are Hannah and Susan by the way. I think you know Harry,” she said with a wink. “So, how are you feeling?”

“Oh, um, fine.” He held up his hand, showing a complete lack of plaster. “Madam Pomfrey fixed it right up, I can come back to Gryffindor after I'm done eating.”

“Cool, we'll wait for you then. We can walk back together. Say, you missed all the excitement! After you'd left, Malfoy found your Remembrall...”

Donna explained the whole incident, with some interjections from Harry, to the fascinated boy. 

“It was brilliant! I mean, stupid and death-defying, yes, but very impressive to see.”

Harry blushed a little at her words, but she noticed he was slowly relaxing in his chair. “I didn't know what else to do,” he said. “I didn't really stop to think things through.”

Susan snickered. “Gryffindor,” she whispered.

“Anyway,” Donna continued the story, “what do you know, but McGonagall comes out! She'd seen the whole thing, or at least the infamous dive, because she didn't actually punish Malfoy or anything. But! We just found out what she did when she took Harry with her!” She glanced at her Hufflepuff friends. “Ladies, this does not go beyond these walls, ok? She made him Seeker!”

Harry ducked his head a little, although he could not quite conceal his pleasure at the prospect. The others expressed varying degrees of shock at the idea of a first year on the Quidditch team. Susan was impressed but unruffled, Hannah was bouncing with excitement and apparently about a skip away from jumping up and hugging Harry, and Neville looked as though he was glad that lot had fallen to Harry and not to him. Understandable, considering his experience from today.

Once Neville was discharged, the three girls walked with him, until they came to the stairs where Hannah and Susan had to go down to the Hufflepuff common room. Before they split, they agreed to meet up to study together the next week.

When the two girls had left, Neville glanced at his two companions and cleared his throat. “Listen, uhm... can... can I ask you a question? Why did you come visit me? Not that I don't appreciate it, because I do! I'm just... not sure why.”

Donna looked at him for a moment. 

“Like I told someone earlier... because you're my classmate, and you were hurt, and it seemed like the decent thing to do. And... I'd like to be your friend. If you want.”

The boy directed a shy smile at her.

“I'd like that. Thanks, Donna.”

Harry hunched his shoulders a little bit, but he took a deep breath and turned to Neville. “I'll be honest with you, Neville. I almost didn't come. For one thing, I didn't realise this was a thing you could do, visit someone who was hurt. But I also very nearly let someone else make a decision for me. If it wasn't for Donna, I probably would have. So, this is me, making a decision for myself... I want to be your friend too.”

The smile on Neville's face was dazzling. He looked like he couldn't quite believe that he'd gained two friends at the same time. She didn't point out to him that once you'd started, very often it was quite easy to keep going. He'd find out for himself. 

“We're nearly there,” said Harry. “Do you know the password?”

The smile left Neville's face. “Uhm... I seem to have forgotten.”

Donna laughed and patted his arm. “Good thing you have us then, eh?”

“Pig snout,” Harry told the portrait commonly known as 'the Fat Lady'. Donna thought it a disrespectful name, but she hadn't managed to find out her actual name yet.


	12. Chapter 11- The Castle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exploring Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I believe I forgot to update yesterday. No worries though, this story has been completely written and only the last couple of chapters are still to be beta-read by the lovely Loor. So even if I forget one day, this story (at least first year) will not be abandoned!

The following day, Harry received a package at the breakfast table – a very long, very narrow package, with a note attached not to open it in the Great Hall. Because nobody could guess what it might be if the paper was still covering it, of course. He was sitting with Neville, while Rone kept casting them dirty looks from a few seats down. Looked like he wasn't over his perceived rejection from yesterday yet.

Donna rolled her eyes. Gryffindors were many things, but subtle was not one of them. 

Hermione mumbled something next to her, casting dirty looks at the package. She didn't like flying, so it probably wasn't jealousy. 

“What's got your knickers in a twist?” Donna asked her friend, bumping against her shoulder.

Hermione pointed her chin at Harry and Neville, who were taking the package somewhere – likely the dorm to open it. “They don't care that he got a reward for breaking the rules. He shouldn't have been up in the air in the first place!”

Donna studied the other girl. She was really bothered about that part of the whole incident. 

“It doesn't matter to you that he broke the rules to stand up to a bully? It's not like he waited for Hooch to turn her back and then immediately took to the air, is it? I mean, he could maybe have handled it a little better, like ignoring Malfoy instead of giving in to his taunts, and I don't think a Remembrall is quite worth risking your neck for. But regardless, he did that for Neville, and that has got to be worth something.

“I do hope you're not planning on not talking to Harry for two months just because professor McGonagall doesn't know how punishments work?”

Hermione's shoulders slumped as she admitted defeat. “I guess. It's just, I've been raised to follow the rules. They make things orderly.”

Donna patted her hand. “I can tell. Don't worry, though, that's a bad habit we'll soon have you cured of when you start thinking for yourself a bit. Nothing wrong with a little bit of chaos and rule-breaking, if the cause is just.”

She caught the Weasley twins' eyes. They wore matching devilish grins, although they did not interrupt her with their patented twin speak. She threw them a wink before getting up.

“Let's go, we'll be late for Potions.”

***DNMCY1***

The lesson went about as well as the previous ones – which was to say, disastrously. Snape continued to criticize the Gryffindors while not teaching them a thing, focusing especially on Harry and Neville, who were working together today. Donna likewise received a lion's share of the barbs, since she couldn't keep her sarcastic mouth shut. She didn't care, though, she could handle it and any time he focused on her was a moment he did not focus on her friends. She wondered if she could get Archie to arrange a tutor for her during the summer. She didn't need the best Potion Master Britain had to offer, she needed a teacher!

Eventually, the day ended, and with it the week. She and Hermione started on their homework, and they were soon joined by Neville and Harry. Ron was sitting in an armchair, glaring across the common room at them. Donna smiled at him and beckoned that he could join too if he wanted, but he flushed, crossed his arms and deliberately looked the other way. Alright then, his loss.

“W... what's that?” Neville asked when he was seated, pointing at Donna's writing utensils where she was penning down a rough draft of her Transfiguration essay. Donna looked down in confusion, until she realised these pureblood types only ever wrote with a quill. She held up both items.

“Ballpoint pen. Note block – with lined paper. No reason to make my life harder just because your society didn't receive the memo that we are nearing the 21st century. No offense.”

“Uhm... is it not your society too, now?”

Donna shrugged. “Dunno yet, do I? I'm 11,” give or take a few decades – “who knows how my life will turn out. I'll probably study to get my NEWTS, but after that? Go mundane with some magical help? Go full magical? Something in between? Anything could happen.”

Neville nodded. “Fair enough. C...could one of you explain this Gamp's Law to me again? Professor McGonagall lost me about halfway through her explanation.”

Hermione looked up from her own essay, having ignored the conversation up to now. It was like she had a sixth sense for when she could showcase her knowledge.

Donna leaned back, listening to Hermione's explanation. Then she leaned forwards again to rummage through her backpack, emerging with some extra pens and noteblocks. She had more than enough to spare, having raided a stationary's back in the summer. 

She gave one set to Neville. “In case you want to take notes,” she winked at him. He held the pen a bit awkwardly at first, but soon he was scribbling away. Hermione declined without pausing, but Harry looked relieved when she offered him a set as well. His handwriting improved significantly, compared to the scribbles he made on parchment. Was he a muggleborn then? Wait, no, everybody and their dog in this castle seemed to know his name, so he must come from a wizarding family. And yet he was more familiar with pen and paper than with quill and parchment. A juxtaposition, that. She couldn't remember if he'd mentioned his family before, but she'd wager, despite the aforementioned fame in the wizarding world, he was at least partially muggleraised. 

***DNMCY1***

On Saturday she met with Harry, Neville and Hermione in the Common Room. Ron had originally agreed to the exploration, but the boys reported him either fast asleep or refusing to come out, they couldn't see which with his bed hangings closed. Harry in particular, unsurprisingly, was hurt by the obvious rejection, but she was proud of him for choosing to stand by his decision. The worst thing was, Ron probably didn't see the difference between avoiding Harry at all cost, and Harry choosing to visit Neville instead of automatically picking Ron over everyone else. He was just lashing out, and it might grow worse before it could get better, but she hoped he'd get over it sooner rather than later. Otherwise, his reaction now might just cost him this friendship. 

“Alright, so which way do we go?” asked Hermione when they'd climbed out of the portrait hole.

Donna laughed. “That's the beauty of it: it doesn't matter! The trick to a really good exploration is to get lost as thoroughly as you can. And the best part is, we're not even in mortal danger! Hooray!”

The other three looked at her oddly, but she didn't care. She was in high spirits. This was almost like old times.

“Nevermind. Come on!” She linked her arm with Harry's and Hermione's and started walking. At the first junction, she looked both ways. Right led straight to the Great Hall (or as straight as you got in Hogwarts) so left they went.

Soon they came to a set of stairs. “Alright, I chose last time. Harry's turn! Up or down?”

Harry peered both ways. “I don't know, how do you choose?” 

“If you know where one direction leads, you pick the other one. If you don't know either way, it doesn't matter. Don't think about it too much.”

“Oh, ok. Down.”

They amused themselves like that, each in turn picking a direction until they'd well and truly got lost. They peeked into classrooms, dusty and abandoned, wandered through corridors where it seemed nobody had been in a long time. 

At one point they were in the middle of a staircase when it started moving, causing them to nearly fall down. They found two suits of armour that seemed to be crooning love songs at each other.

“That's Celestina Warbeck,” Neville supplied. “My Gran disapproves of her officially, but I think she secretly likes her. I hear her songs playing sometimes back at the Manor.”

They talked about their families back home a bit, but not very much at all. Donna had told them her mum had died the previous year, and that she'd been living with her 'uncle' Jack ever since. The story gave her an age range to pick anecdotes from, but also an excuse not to say too much. She noticed that the other three, for whatever reason, likewise didn't volunteer much information, and she didn't like it. It could be a coincidence, but her gut told her that she should pay close attention to anything the others did say.

Eventually they started getting hungry. Just as she suggested trying to find their way back to the Great Hall, her hand encountered a gap. It had been trailing along a tapestry depicting a field of blue flowers with a group of (presumably) virgins dancing with unicorns, and it just boggled the mind that the images were moving. She prodded the tapestry experimentally without encountering the expected resistance of the wall. 

“What's this?” she asked, while lifting the tapestry out of the way.

“Looks like a passage,” Hermione answered, peering inside.

“A s... secret passage,” Neville added. “Th... the castle's supposed to be full of them.”

“Anyone up for one last exploration before lunch?” Donna asked. They all agreed, and moved into the passageway, which was just big enough to walk in single file. There was a soft light coming from... somewhere, but no torches were burning. God, she loved magic!

When they emerged from behind another tapestry – this one with a knight on a prancing horse – they looked around curiously.

“I know where we are!” Hermione said. “That way is the library, which means we're very close to the Great Hall!”

“Oh, g... good. Shall we go and have lunch?” Neville asked. The others eagerly agreed.

Donna kept her suspicions to herself. She was not a big believer in coincidence, especially where magic was involved. Nothing could be taken at face value.

The way they'd just ended up more or less where they wanted to go reminded her how the TARDIS layout seemed to change depending on your mood (or more accurately, the Doctor's mood). She patted one of the stone walls. “Thank you, lovely lady.”

She didn't get an answer, but then she hadn't expected one. She resolved to treat the castle much the same as she would the TARDIS.


	13. Chapter 12 - The Dog and the Troll

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See? I told you there'd be a better confrontation with Snape, didn't I?

The following weeks followed much the same pattern. Lessons and homework and studying in the library during the week, exploring the castle and meeting with her friends, both in Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, in the weekend. Ron sort of looked jealously on from the sidelines, mostly at Harry to see if he'd change his mind and... what, she wasn't sure, choose him and only him as his friend, the way it had looked he might the first two weeks? He never made a move to join them, or apologise to Harry, and he rebuffed all of Harry's attempts at making up their fight, as long as it looked like he wouldn't give up his friendship with the girls and Neville, which Harry refused to do. Eventually the black-haired boy gave up, figuring that either Ron would get over his grudge at some point or he wouldn't, and there wasn't much he could do about it either way.

Thanks to Hannah and Susan, they found the entrance to the kitchens, where the oddest-looking creatures seemed to be in residence, eager to feed them anything they might want. They had large, bulbous eyes and long ears, and they seemed to be wearing pillow cases, with the Hogwarts crest proudly displayed on them. Donna often returned there, and soon she was on a first-name basis with many of the creatures, who called themselves house-elves.

They also discovered a room that was, for some reason, filled with all sorts of couches – big ones, small ones, lumpy ones and comfortable ones. They arranged the best ones in a circle, so that they'd have a place to hang out with their Hufflepuff friends.

One memorable weekend three weeks after their initial exploration, Donna did get her wish, and quite by accident, too. Although if she was right and Hogwarts was a sentient building, the accident might just have had a cause in the same way that the Doctor rarely ended up where he wanted to go. 

On this particular Saturday, it was just Harry, Hermione and herself, as Neville had promised professor Sprout to help in one of the Greenhouses. 

They found the way they were going barred by a locked door. This wasn't the first time that had happened, and Hermione had taught the others a simple opening charm that she knew. 

Once Hermione opened the door, they went through – and stopped dead in their tracks. Right in front of them stood a dog. And not just any dog, either – it was a huge dog, of a size that made you wonder how they'd got it into this room, what with the comparatively small door. At least, you might wonder that after getting the hell out of there and taking a Calming Draught or two. 

And not only that, but it had three heads. Donna counted again. Yes, three heads.

She felt torn in a way she hadn't yet since finding herself on a sunny street in Cardiff. On the one hand, there was Donna, a girl who had perhaps lived through a lifetime, but who was currently still 11 years old and not ready to risk her life, even if she was a Gryffindor.

On the other hand, there was the DoctorDonna, who usually resided in the dark corners of her mind, content to slumber in the place where dreams come from, but woken up now by the adrenalin coursing through her body.

The DoctorDonna won.

“Oh, look at you!” she said, advancing a step. The dog looked taken aback, as much as a three-headed dog can. It was not used to people coming towards it, instead of running the other way, usually screaming.

“You are beautiful! What are you doing here then, gorgeous? Did someone put you here?”

“Donna! What are you doing?” Harry whisper-shouted. “Let's get out of here!”

The DoctorDonna ignored that, still talking to the dog.

“Oh, you're a fiersome one, aren't you? Yes, you need to be running somewhere with lots of open space, not locked up in a draughty old castle. Hey now, I'm not going to hurt you, don't worry! There, that's better, isn't it? There now, you just calm down. You're a bit lonely, aren't you? I can tell.”

As the DoctorDonna talked in a soothing voice, she reached up a hand to allow one of the heads to sniff it, ignoring the fact that its teeth were larger than her hand. The beast seemed to waver somewhere between confusion and respect that this tiny creature in front of him was not cowering in fear.

When she started petting him, he suddenly lost the tension he'd been holding. He lowered his body so that she could reach better and scratch more, his huge tail thumping fit to shake the room.

“Those two are my friends, gorgeous. You won't harm them, will you? Look, I have to go now, but I will try and find out who put you here, alright? Get them to give you a little exercise, how's that sound? And I'll come and visit again. Ok now? All good?”

With one last rub she made her way back to the door, dragging Harry and Hermione, both watching with open mouth, with her. She locked the door behind them. As the adrenalin wore off, the DoctorDonna retreated, leaving room again for Donna. The girl blew out a shaky breath and leaned against the wall. 

“Donna, what was that?” Hermione asked in a strangled whisper. “You just waltzed in there like it was nothing. What if it had killed you? Or maimed you? Why did you do that?”

Donna took a deep breath and let it out in a rush. “I don't know, Hermione. Well, that's not entirely true. I do know, more or less, but it's not something that I am ready to discuss. Just... maybe don't tell people what's there? I mean, you can tell Neville, just not the entire school.”

“But...”

“Please, Hermione, leave it. Trust me, please.”

She could see the moment Hermione relented. 

“Alright then,” she grumbled, “but I hope you'll tell us soon. Just... try not to give us a heart attack again?”

Donna grinned. “No promises, but I'll do my best. So, did you two see what I saw?”

“What,” answered Harry, “you mean aside from the bloody big dog?”

“Language, Harry!” chided Hermione. “That was a guard dog. It was standing over a trapdoor.”

“Ten points to Gryffindor. That means something of value is hidden there, because who in their right mind would lock up a three-headed dog otherwise?

“No, wait, scratch that. Who in their right mind locks up a three-headed dog IN A SCHOOL? Even if there is something of value hidden there, that's like pointing a flashing red arrow to its location.”

Harry had a thoughtful look on his face. 

“When Hagrid took me to Diagon Alley, he took a package from a vault. Said other than Gringott's, Hogwarts was the safest place to keep something. I think maybe that's what the dog is guarding?

“Makes sense. Come on, let's go. I've had quite enough adventure for one day.”

***DNMCY1***

Before they knew it, another two weeks had passed and Halloween was upon them. The day passed relatively uneventfully, other than a feather exploding at Seamus' table. Ron grumbled about Hermione's correction of his pronunciation, but she shrugged off his insults. 

Throughout the day, Donna noticed both Harry and Neville being quiet and withdrawn. On their way to the Great Hall after their classes, she linked her arms with the two of them, as she sometimes did.

“Are you two ok?” she asked quietly. “You're both looking a bit peaky. You're not coming down with anything?”

Harry shot her a small smile, although it didn't quite reach his eyes, then he glanced at Neville. “No, I'm fine. 'S just... my parents died on Halloween. Hagrid told me. On Halloween Vold... I mean, You-Know-Who... killed them, and then failed to kill me. I don't really feel like celebrating the day I became an orphan.”

Donna nodded in sympathy and turned to Neville. The boy had his shoulders drawn up, but he took a deep breath. “I, uh... I h-have a s-s-... kind of the same problem as... as Harry, but not, uhm. I'd r...really rather not talk about it in the h-hallway.”

“Ok, here's an idea. Why don't we hop in quickly to gather some food, and then we can go to the couch room? We can talk about this, or about something else, or even not at all if that's what you want. I just don't think either of you should be alone right at this moment.”

Since they'd started using it, the room felt a bit like unofficial headquarters, and it was better than the common room where everybody could overhear them.

Harry's smile became a little bit more genuine. “Yeah, ok. I appreciate it.” 

Neville only nodded, but he looked a tiny bit better. 

As they gathered some of the food in a napkin, they told the others where they were going, to keep them from worrying. Hermione volunteered to go with them, while Hannah and Susan opted to stay in the Great Hall with their house, although not without tightly hugging both boys – who seemed unsure how to handle the physical contact. 

Once in the couch room, Donna sprawled out on a two-seater, while Neville and Harry curled up in a one-seater each. Hermione surveyed the scene for a moment, before lifting up Donna's legs and making herself comfortable in that corner of the couch. 

“Alright,” said Donna. “Neville, do you want to tell us? Or would you prefer not to talk about it?”

Neville was quiet for a while, studying the upholstery of his seat. Donna didn't press him. Eventually he opened his mouth. “Uhm. My parents were attacked... a few days after You-Know-Who was defeated. Some Death Eaters tortured them. They survived the attack, but... their minds were broken, they went insane. They're in St. Mungo's. They don't recognise anyone, except I think they do a bit, they just can't show it. So... I didn't actually become an orphan today ten years ago, but...”

“Today is the run-up to that anniversary.” Donna nodded her understanding. 

“I keep w-wondering what they w-were doing ten years ago, if they were h-happy in those last days. Did they celebrate? I c-can't ever ask them, even though they're alive.”

Harry nudged his foot. “I know what you mean. When I was smaller I used to sit in my cupboard and have whole conversations with my parents in my head, trying to ask them questions. The answers I came up with were never satisfying.”

Donna and Hermione stilled at the same moment and looked at Harry. He noticed the sudden attention focused on him and flushed a little.

“What?” He sounded quite defensive, which Donna supposed was only natural with two pairs of wide eyes fixed on him.

Donna was the first to find her voice. “Harry, what... exactly... do you mean when you say 'sit in my cupboard'?” It was the odd phrasing that had drawn the girls' attention. Not many people would choose to sit in a cupboard, let alone claim it as their own.

Harry froze when he realised what he'd let slip. “Uhm. I.” His eyes darted around for an escape route for a moment, but Neville had become interested too, sitting up a bit from where he'd been slumping.

Harry took a deep breath, seemingly coming to a decision. “It's... it's not something I like to talk about, but... you're my friends. Right?”

Hermione nodded encouragingly. 

“My... relatives... didn't treat me very well. I lived with my mum's sister, aunt Petunia, and she made me sleep in the cupboard under the stairs. It was my room for as long as I can remember, so that was my cupboard. 

“Dudley – that's my cousin – was allowed to bully me, and I was punished for doing better than him in school. I was punished for failing, too, so that was a fine balancing act right there. For the longest time, back when I was a child, I thought my name was Freak, because that was all they ever called me. That, and 'boy'. They had to explain to me, when I started going to school, that Harry was my name and I'd be expected to answer to it.”

Harry looked nervously at the others, as if he was expecting them to get up and walk away after that confession. Hermione was covering her mouth in shock. Donna was not much better off. She'd had her suspicions that his home life was less than perfect, but she'd had no idea of the extent. And he'd only told them a little part, she was sure there was much more to it.

“I'm sorry, Harry, but... I have to hug you now, if you'll let me,” she said. She got up and opened her arms, and when she heard no objection she closed them around him. She smiled when she felt a pair of arms coming up a bit hesitantly. She didn't think the monsters who made a child sleep in the cupboard under the stairs would hug him very often, so he probably wasn't quite sure what to do. That was fine, though. She had loads of time to get him used to frequent hugs.

“That was very brave of you, Harry. Thank you for telling us,” she told him when she let go. 

Harry blushed. “Didn't feel very brave,” he muttered.

“Well it was,” Hermione agreed with Donna, “and don't let anyone tell you otherwise!”

Harry didn't answer her, but his smile was just a little more genuine.

After a while, both Neville and Harry were at least ready to face some more people, even if they didn't really want to brave the crowd in the Great Hall. They decided to go to the common room.

They were nearing a staircase when they suddenly started smelling something terrible, like weeks old laundry mixed with sewage water. A bit further down the corridor, between them and the stairs, came a hulking grey form, dragging a club behind it. It looked a bit like a rock with limbs.

“What is THAT?” Donna asked.

“T...t...troll!” came Neville's unwelcome answer.

Just then it saw them, and a split opened in its round head, showing big and yellow teeth. It seemed to be grinning. It raised its club and charged, much quicker than it ought to be able to. Donna managed to avoid it by diving to the side, as did Neville, but Harry and Hermione had run the other way. 

The troll slowed down when its club hit the floor instead of its intended prey. The way to the stairs was clear for Donna and Neville, but neither of them even thought about leaving the other two to fend for themselves.

“Confuse it!” Donna yelled. It might be fast when motivated, but clever it was not.

“Oy! Pea-brain!” Harry yelled, making the troll turn towards him. 

“No, this way!” Hermione had found a loose stone and chucked it at its head. 

“You are one ugly brute, aren't ya?” Donna followed up her insult with sparks shooting from her wand at the troll's face. It batted at them with its free hand and bellowed in rage. It started swinging its club again, and then Harry did something that Donna thought made the three-headed dog incident pale in comparison. While everyone was yelling at it at the same time, he jumped on the troll's back and jammed his wand into its nose.

“Do something!” he yelled desperately.

Neville was the first to react, swishing and flicking his wand with more conviction than he had ever shown in Charms class. “Wingardium Leviosa!” he cried out. 

Donna watched the troll's wooden club rise into the air.

“Harry! Let go!”

The boy was just in time. As he jumped down from the troll's back, the club landed on its head with a resounding crash. For a moment the beast stood swaying, as if it wasn't quite sure what had happened, and then it toppled over. Donna forcibly restrained the hysterical urge to call out “Timber!” There was a time and a place for pop-culture references, and this was neither.

Hermione was just helping Harry to stand up when a bunch of teachers descended upon them. _Here comes the cavalry_ , Donna thought but did not say. 

Snape bent over the unconscious troll, and Quirrell clutched his heart and leaned against the wall. A bit useless as a DADA professor, wasn't he? Professor McGonagall bore down on them with a disapproving frown. “What in Merlin's name were you thinking?”

Harry and Hermione shuffled their feet a bit, while Neville was still standing with his wand raised, either afraid to make a movement or still not quite believing what he had done.

“You're lucky you weren't killed!” the professor continued. “Why aren't any of you in your dormitories?”

Donna's temper flared. She placed herself squarely in front of her classmates, looking angrily up at McGonagall. She forgot for a moment that she was supposed to be 11 years old – after all, she'd been an adult for far longer than she had been a child – and at the end there, she'd even beaten McGonagall in age.

“Excuse me? What do you mean, what are WE doing? We were walking towards Gryffindor Tower, that's what we were doing! We were almost at the stairs when that thing showed up and CHARGED at us! I thought Hogwarts was supposed to be such a safe school? If getting attacked by a troll while minding your own business is considered safe, I do not want to know what the other magic schools are like!”

Professor McGonagall looked taken aback at the young girl taking her to task. Snape's smooth voice interjected.

“And yet, we are not anywhere on the way from the Great Hall to Gryffindor Tower.”

Donna sent him a look that communicated quite clearly how little respect she had for him. 

“No sh... kidding, Sherlock,” she said, only barely aware enough of her surroundings to know he would make her life even worse if she'd used the word she'd wanted to. “We weren't IN the Great Hall, were we, so it'd be a bit odd if we were on that route.”

“And where, pray tell, were you, if not at the Halloween Feast? Did the great Harry Potter think himself too good for such plebeian displays?”

“What is your problem? He lost his parents ten years ago today, and he didn't want to celebrate that. Is that a crime now? We have to be happy and social at all times? If you must know, we were in a room back there that we use to hang out with our Hufflepuff friends, because this school makes it practically impossible to maintain inter-house friendships.”

Professor McGonagall took back control of the conversation.

“Yes, well. I may have spoken hastily in my concern. Do you really mean to say that you had no idea about the troll?”

Donna shook her head, calming down a little. “We hadn't heard anything, professor. We were honestly just going from that one room to our common room, we had no clue anything like that was loose in the castle.”

“Very well, miss Noble. You get five points each for keeping a cool head in a stressful situation, and an additional ten for taking down a mountain troll – something not many first years would have been able to do, especially without warning.”

“Minerva, surely you do not mean to reward them for such blatant disregard for the rules?”

“For fuck's sake, what rule did we break?” Donna muttered, but quietly enough that neither professor paid heed to her words. McGonagall straightened to her full height, just a little bit shorter than the Potions Master, but with such bearing that she seemed to dwarf him.

“We will discuss this in private, Severus.”

When she turned back to the children, her eyes softened a bit. “Better get to your common rooms. The Feast is continuing there.”

They left the teachers there, Snape's dark gaze boring holes into their skulls until they reached the stairs. They hadn't gone far when Sprout came running up. 

“Oh dear, oh dear. There you are, children. Oh, thank Merlin and Morgana that you are safe. Susan and Hannah told me you probably don't know, but there is a troll on the loose in the castle. Be careful, and quickly go to your common room. The teachers are dealing with it.”

Donna turned around, and shot a vindicated look at her least favourite professor, who glowered at her. “Thank you, professor, but the troll is no longer an issue. Some of your colleagues don't seem to believe me when I say we didn't know about it. Is it ok if we go now?”

Sprout likewise looked to where McGonagall, Snape and Quirrell were still examining the troll.

“Oh dear,” she repeated. “Yes, dearie, do go to your common room. I will make sure everyone knows you are not to blame.”

Donna quickly ushered the others away, intent on getting to the common room as quickly as possible before they could be interrupted again.

The silence lasted until they were almost at the entrance to Gryffindor Tower. Hermione was the first to talk.

“Did that just happen? I feel like I dreamt the whole thing.”

Donna laughed. “Don't worry, you get used to it. Pig snout,” she told the portrait. She ignored the looks the others were giving each other before following her into the noise of the common room.


	14. Chapter 13 - The Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donna tells her friends her secret.

On the Saturday of the week following the Troll incident, Donna sat cross-legged on a couch in the Couch Room, with her friends sitting around her in various degrees of anticipation. She had decided that she should start trusting some people, and who better than the friends who had faced down a troll together? 

Hermione was practically bouncing in her seat at the thought of secrets to be shared, while Neville and Harry looked calmer, if no less curious. Harry was the first one to break the silence. Surprising, she would have expected Hermione.

“Well? You wanted to tell us something?”

“Steady on there, cowboy, I'm still trying to figure out how to tell my story. Even knowing magic is real, it's a weird story. Also I'm not sure where to start, by telling you my age or my birth year.”

Donna paused for a moment, gathering her thoughts. “Alright, so... start at the beginning, I guess. I was born in 1970. Yes, Hermione, I know that makes my age closer to 21 than 11, let me tell my story.

“Like I said, 1970. When I turned 11 years old... absolutely nothing happened. Well, I guess I had a birthday party, but that was par for the course and so long ago that I hardly even remember it, so that doesn't count. All the stories I've been telling involving my mum are from that time.

“I went to school, then to uni, and when I graduated I did some temping, ending up at a security firm as a secretary. I met a man there, a wonderful man – well, I thought he was wonderful at the time. We were going to get married. In fact I got all the way to walking down the aisle, when the magic entered my life, if not quite in the same way as yours. One moment I'm looking at my soon-to-be husband, the next I'm standing in the oddest-looking room you can imagine, with a weirdo in a suit and sandshoes demanding to know how *I* got on board!

“Turns out the weirdo was an alien called the Doctor, my fiancé was working for the bad guy, and I was supposed to get sacrificed in a bid to conquer the world with big-arse spiders.

“The next year, I met the Doctor again, and we started travelling together. He had a spaceship, he could travel through space and time. He showed me wonders you can't even begin to imagine...

“Long story short, something happened on our last adventure that gave me the Doctor's memories, overloading my brain. I did mention he was an alien? He had to wipe my memories of our travels, else I'd die. Or become a vegetable, either was possible.”

“How can you tell us about this if he wiped your memories?” asked Hermione.

“I'm getting there – it's part of the reason I'm here. So, after that time I lived a normal life, even if I always felt like a part of me was missing. I married an actual wonderful man, had kids, lived a long life. I was nearing the ripe old age of 89 when I died – and then the dung hit the propeller blades.”

Neville looked politely confused at her expression, while Harry and Hermione grinned. They knew exactly what she was trying to say.

“So that's my backstory, so you know where I'm coming from. My alien friend, the Doctor – one of his more alien aspects, aside from his having two hearts – don't ask – is that he regenerates into a completely different body when his old one dies. Turns out the accident that gave me his memories, also gave me a regeneration. As it happens, I didn't turn into a completely different person, I turned into my 10-year-old self, I got my own memories back as well as the Doctor's, and I ended up in Cardiff.”

“In... Cardiff?” said Neville.

Donna nodded. “I know, right? Near as we can tell, a Rift in Space and Time opened and pulled me through during my regeneration, possibly drawn by the residue of Huon particles, or by the regeneration energy, who knows.”

“A rift in... y'know what, I'm not going there,” said Harry. “How did you end up getting magic?”

“No idea. The person who found me was Jack Harkness, who monitors the Rift running through Cardiff – again, don't ask. I know him from my travels with the Doctor, although we hadn't met yet from his point of view. Still, he knows enough about time travel that he believed me, gave me a place to stay and a cover. Next thing I know, an owl is delivering a letter. The rest, as they say, is history.”

“That is... quite the story,” said Neville.

Harry nodded. “I would say it's almost impossible to believe, but then a couple of months ago I wouldn't have thought a magic castle in Scotland at all possible – or, you know, that I might make actual friends, so I'll take it. It doesn't seem like the sort of thing you'd make up, does it?”

“So... when you say stuff like 'you'll get used to it' when referring to an encounter with a troll...” Hermione trailed off, but Donna could hear the implied question.

“I'm speaking from experience, yes. It's surprisingly easy to be blasé about stuff like that after your first couple of monsters. Don't get me wrong, it does nothing about the adrenalin in the moment, but you tend to dwell less during the in-between moments.”

The conversation flowed easily from there, with everyone asking her questions about her adventures, or time travel, or the future. She answered them, only omitting some details to spare 11-year-old ears. She was glad she wouldn't have to bite her tongue quite so often anymore, at least while she was with her friends – and what friends they turned out to be! She was still an excellent judge of character. Not everyone would have heard her story and basically shrugged and moved on.

Eventually the topic moved to the troll.

“Who do we think brought it inside?” asked Donna.

“We're working from the assumption it didn't wander in on its own?”

“Nah, in my experience these kinds of beasties tend to be brought in to cause havoc. Usually – not always, mind, but usually – they want to be left alone.”

“There are wards in place to keep the bigger animals in the Forbidden Forest away from the school,” Hermione supplied. “I read about them in _Hogwarts, a History_. I don't think trolls are excluded.”

“So someone must've brought it in on purpose, and they must have access to the school. No reason to bring it into a place you have no business being. I don't think even a seventh-year could sneak something that big and dangerous inside without causing a whole bunch of alarms, so I'm thinking it's probably a teacher. Any thoughts?”

“But... a teacher wouldn't do that!”

Donna looked at Hermione with raised eyebrows. “Sure they would, luv. I mean, not all teachers, obviously. I think we can safely rule out Sprout, for example, but they're human beings, same as us, with all sorts of motivations. Granted, I wouldn't know what motivation one could have to bring a bloody troll into a school, but here we are. Being a teacher does not automatically make them a saint.”

“I think it's Snape,” Neville said.

“Yeah, he's a right evil git,” answered Harry. Of course, the two of them had it worst from the dour Potions professor. 

“He does have the brooding villain look down pat, doesn't he?” said Donna. “But looks aren't everything. Personally, I don't trust Quirrell any further than I can throw him.”

“His stutter is worse than mine, Donna,” said Neville.

“Your point? You hardly have a stutter left when you're with us. But seriously, think about it. Put yourself into our hypothetical bad guy's shoes. Which of these two acts seems the least likely to get your illicit activities closely examined – the greasy dungeon bat looming in or the poor stuttering fool who jumps at his own shadow?”

The others looked thoughtful. 

“Look, I'm not saying it's definitely not Snape. His bullying hardly gets him brownie points, just... keep an open mind, is all. Looks can be deceiving. The Doctor was a master at that – make himself look like a clown or a loon, and bam, before anyone knew what hit them, he'd won. It might not even be either of them, but I hardly think McGonagall would allow a troll into the school. Let's just keep our eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary.”


	15. Chapter 14 - The First Quidditch Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry plays his first game

The days settled back into their routine after the Troll incident. They told Hannah and Susan about their encounter, but not about Donna's subsequent revelation. While she liked the two Hufflepuffs well enough, she didn't want to spread her story around too much. She might tell them at some point, but not just yet.

Soon it was time for the first Quidditch match of the year, for which Harry had been training since getting his broom. 

Donna trooped along with her classmates to the stands, to show support for Harry and solidarity for her house. She didn't know how much she would enjoy the game, though. She wasn't much into soccer for the same reason – watching a bunch of billionaires running around kicking away a sack of air was hardly her idea of a good time. She was hoping a live game with people she knew would have a better atmosphere.

And it did. There was a certain excitement in the air that drew in even the most reluctant spectator. There was something about the chanting, the painted banners flashing in different colours (Potter for President... she wasn't the only one going for pop-culture references) and the live commentator that swept you up in a tide of energy that was hard to deny. Still, when Donna watched the stunts being pulled up in the air, she was more than happy to remain firmly on the ground.

Then suddenly things started going wrong. Hermione was peering through a pair of binoculars she'd borrowed from Hagrid when she gasped and pointed. Donna peered up and spotted Harry, who seemed to be flying in the oddest pattern – a jerk to the left, a twist to the right. Harry was hanging on for dear life.

By the time the rest of the students noticed his predicament, he'd nearly fallen off and was holding on with one hand, while the Weasley twins tried to position themselves so that they could catch him. Hermione changed the direction of the binoculars to take in the stands.

“Look at Snape,” she gasped. “He's jinxing Harry's broom!”

Donna made a grab for the binoculars. Snape was indeed focusing intently on Harry, constantly moving his lips. But Donna remembered something Hermione seemed to have overlooked. They had two suspects for who had let in the troll – and the second one was standing on the same side as Snape.

“Hermione, look!” She managed to snag the other girl's sleeve before she rushed off to do something Gryffindorish.

“There's no time!” the girl yelled. Donna shoved the binoculars at her.

“Make time! Look at Quirrell!”

Hermione took the binoculars and looked.

“But.. he's jinxing too!”

“That, and not a trace of a stutter. Seems like Turban there is more competent than he's showing in class.”

“So what, they're both jinxing the broom?”

“My guess is one is jinxing and the other is counterjinxing, otherwise Harry would have fallen off already. Question is, who's doing the jinxing?” 

Hermione nodded firmly. “I'll have to disrupt both of them at the same time, if we make the wrong guess Harry will fall!”

Donna tracked Hermione's progress towards the other stand anxiously, alternating the binoculars between her and Harry. Looked like she'd decided to focus on Quirrell. Donna saw a small ribbon of smoke trailing up from his robes, but in the chaos when the small fire was discovered, Snape was likewise pushed and lost eyecontact with the bucking broom. Donna hurriedly looked back up.

Harry was still hanging from his broom with one hand, but the sudden cessation of jinxes caused the wood to give one last violent lurch, catching the boy unawares. To Donna's horrified gaze, his grip slipped, and then he was falling. She didn't notice Neville holding her arm in a death grip. 

For a moment, the world seemed to stop, the whole pitch holding its breath – and then the Weasley twins swooped in, somehow flanking him. They managed to manoevre him behind one of them mid-air, causing the stands to erupt in cheers and applause.

The three of them quickly flew down, and Harry rolled off the back of the broom, coughing violently. For a moment silence descended again, only for the noise to return tenfold when he thrust up his arm, holding the fluttering snitch. Gryffindor had won.

***DNMCY1***

While most of their House went to the common room to celebrate, Hagrid tried to invite Harry and his friends to his hut, but Donna was not having it.

“You just nearly fell to your death! You're lucky Fred and George were there, but madam Pomfrey IS going to check you over, young man. I can't imagine what the teachers here are thinking, just leaving you alone after that ordeal.”

Harry spluttered. “I'm fine, Donna! I'm not hurt or anything!”

Donna put her hands on Harry's shoulders and looked at him intently. “And I repeat – you just nearly fell to your death. I'm not kidding, Harry. You're going to the infirmary if I have to drag you there. If it makes you feel better, you can pretend it's for our benefit – because we just WATCHED you fall! You're our friend. That means we care about you. You'd better get used to it. Now let's go. You can visit Hagrid later, once madam Pomfrey has done her thing.”

She could see the moment Harry gave in, so she took his arm.

“Great. Allons-y!”

A while later they were sitting on two of the hospital beds, explaining to madam Pomfrey what had happened. She harrumphed. “I always said Quidditch was much too dangerous a sport to be played in a school.”

“Well to be fair, he wouldn't have fallen at all if someone hadn't been jinxing his broom,” Donna said.

“Yes, and I still can't quite reconcile what I know about either Severus or Quirinus with homicide. I mean, I don't doubt you saw what you saw, but I've known both of these young men for years, and I can't see how I could've misjudged either one quite so thoroughly. I'm usually a fairly good judge of character. I'll have to keep a closer eye on them, see what I can find out.

“Meanwhile, here's a Calming Draught for all of you, you can take a dose now and one just before bed, that should help you over the worst of today's shock. Harry, you're physically fine, but make sure you get a good night's sleep, and if you can't, come to me tomorrow morning and I'll write you a note so you can take a nap here.”

When they left the hospital wing, it was too late to go to Hagrid's, though they decided to pay their friend a visit the next day. As they walked, Donna quietly asked Neville to keep an eye on Harry, to see how he slept. She'd ask Dean too, she was friendly enough with him that she could ask him for a favour. She knew Harry's type – he would never ask for help if he could avoid it.

In the common room, the victory party was still in full swing. Fred and George noticed their entrance.

“There he is, gentle witches and wizards!”

“The man of the hour!”

“Youngest Seeker in a century!”

“The Boy-Who-Lived himself!”

“Haaaarry Potter!”

Before the boy could protest, the twins had hoisted him up on their shoulders and carried him in a victory lap around the room, while the Gryffindors cheered him on. Harry was grinning and waving – perhaps a bit awkwardly, but hardly scowling like he usually did when he heard his epithet. By the time they dropped him back off with his friends, he was looking a bit flushed, but happy.

Donna bumped his shoulder and grinned at him, but she did not comment. Someone pushed a drink into their hands. At least it wasn't pumpkin juice, Donna decided when she took a sip. There was no alcohol in it (good thing, too, if they'd given alcohol to 11-year-olds she'd really have kicked up a fuss). It had a slight caramelly taste that she rather liked. She'd have to find out what it was and if she could get that for lunch or dinner, because she did NOT understand wizarding obsession with pumpkin juice.

***DNMCY1***

The following day they kept their promise to visit Hagrid, recounting everything they'd seen. The half-giant had been right there, but too caught up in concern for Harry to hear what they'd been saying. He refused to believe either Quirrell or Snape could be behind it. Contrary to madam Pomfrey, though, his reaction was not “I'll have to keep an eye on them”. Instead, he simply dismissed their concerns. In the world of Rubeus Hagrid, a thing like that, a teacher attacking a student, simply could not happen, and so it was not true.

Donna guessed it showed the goodness of his character, but it also spoke volumes about his sense of reality.

“I can't shake the feeling that what happened is somehow related to the three-headed dog,” she said.

Hagrid's head whipped around.

“How do you know 'bout Fluffy?”

“... Fluffy?”

In the conversation that followed, they found out that 'Fluffy' was Hagrid's dog, he was indeed guarding something, and that something had to do with Nicholas Flamel.

The name rang a bell, but she couldn't quite put her finger on when she might have heard it. She should ask Jack – if it was a name she'd heard in her previous life, he might know something.


	16. Chapter 15 - Two Letters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who needs a chocolate frog card when you have a Jack? ;)

_Hi Jack!_

_Finally, an update, I hear you say! What can I say, time flies when you're having fun. One day it's the second of September and you're trying on a ratty old hat, next thing you know it's the middle of November and you find yourself in a Doctor-worthy adventure._

_Alright, now that I've piqued your interest, let me start with the Sorting stuff. In my first letter I already told you about the Giant Squid (Kraken?), the ghosts (!), Peeves, and the Sorting Hat. Now that I've had some weeks of classes, I can tell you more about them too._

_Most of them are ok – you know, the ones where they teach us to defy all known laws of physics on a regular basis. I can't wait to get to the more advanced classes!_

_The physics-defying classes are Charms ('Here's a feather, now make it fly!'), Transfiguration ('Here's a match, now turn it into a needle!' First lesson, that, I kid you not.) There's also Defense against the Dark Arts, which has the potential to be interesting, if only it were taught by a halfway competent teacher, and Potions, whose teacher is definitely competent in his subject, and also a bully. I'll tell you more about him when we see each other, there's too much information there for this letter._

_Other than that, there's Astronomy, which most students seem to dislike, but I do like it for obvious reasons. Mostly I try to guess which way lie the planets I visited. Herbology is basically 'how to take care of magical plants', not much to say about that, and History of Magic is... well, imagine every boring history lesson you've ever attended (did they even have history lessons in the 51st century?), and then increase the boredom with a factor 10. I'm just saying – it's taught by an actual ghost! It's like he wouldn't even notice if we relocated to a different classroom, he'd just keep droning at an empty room._

_Again, it's a class with so much potential. If the teacher was the tiniest bit passionate about his subject, people might actually learn something! I like to imagine the Doctor teaching a History class, just for a laugh._

_Anyway, now that's out of the way, on to the interesting bits! I'm not sure which event to tell you about first, so I'll just go in chronological order. You remember from my first letter I told you about Gandalf's warning about the third floor corridor. Well, due to... reasons and circumstances, we found ourselves in that location. Don't laugh, it was an honest accident. I will admit to a healthy dose of curiosity and a bit of early stages planning to check it out, though._

_Turns out, there's a three-headed dog locked up in a room there, and it's guarding something. We found out it's a Cerberus and its name is Fluffy. Don't ask about that name, but whatever it's guarding has to do with Nicholas Flamel._

_Do you know that name, by any chance? I feel like I should know it, but not from the last couple of months, so maybe it's a mundane reference?_

_So there's that, and then there's Halloween, when a troll got into the castle. Did anyone contact you about that? It attacked us, we defeated it – remind me to tell you the details when I see you._

_There were four of us involved, and I'm wondering if the school took steps to inform our guardians, or nobody at all, or just the wizarding folks but not mundanes._

_Also remind me to get a mobile phone as soon as they're available on the market, at least then I can inform you right after these happening take place, instead of waiting two weeks to write a letter. That or an e-mail address, I'm not fussed._

_Either way, the most recent event was actually only two days ago. It was the first Quidditch match (you should go watch Quidditch at some point if you ever get the chance. Archie's description pales in comparison to the insanity on brooms that goes on during these matches, and professional Quidditch is even worse from what I gather)._

_Harry's on the team as the Seeker, and at one point his broom started bucking and trying to throw him off – I'm still shaking thinking about it. We're fairly sure either Snape (the Potions guy) or Quirrell (DADA) were trying to kill him, or at least seriously injure him. We just haven't figured out yet WHY either of them would do that. We can't prove it was either of them, or even decide who was the guilty party in the first place. My money's on Quirrell. We have yet to figure out HOW all these events are related, but my Doctor-sense is tingling, so to speak. I'm fairly sure they correlate somehow._

_So yeah, I'll keep you informed about any future developments. I think finding out who Flamel is could be a step in the right direction._

_Donna_

***DNMCY1***

_Hello Donna,_

_Two months in and you're already in trouble? I'm conflicted, the part of me that remembers an 11-year-old boarding that train is horrified. A troll? Homicidal teachers? WHAT?  
The part that knows you're not actually 11 is cheering you on. To be fair, the Doctor would have needed even less time, trouble-magnet that he is, so... go you?_

_Seriously though. I won't ask you to stay away, because I realise that you won't. I know how traveling with the Doctor changes a person. But do try to be careful? I've grown fond of my favorite shorty, so try to keep yourself in one piece if you can, and the same goes for your friends who actually are 11 and might not have quite the same sense of danger as you. There's a difference between knowing the danger is there and going ahead anyway, and just not seeing it._

_To answer your question, I was not informed about any of these incidents. Well, I wouldn't have been about Harry, and I assume you kept the whole Cerberus thing secret from any grown-ups, but the troll at least should have been brought to my attention. You might want to check with your friends if their parents or guardians heard anything. Wasn't that school supposed to be a safe space, though?_

_I don't have quite as much news to tell you. The Rift is keeping us busy enough, but nothing too serious has come through. We haven't had even one alien invasion since you left! Tell you what, though, I'm glad I'm not the boss here – too much paperwork by half. Torchwood One want to know absolutely everything! Alex is welcome to it._

_You did ask about Nicolas Flamel. You're right, the name rang a bell, so I did some digging. He was a 14th century French alchemist, best known for allegedly creating the Philosopher's Stone. Even the Torchwood Archives mention him – mostly asking lots of questions, the answers are a bit sparser. He was supposed to be filthy rich and immortal, if you can believe the stories, but Torchwood never did find out how much of that was true, and if the stone (if it even existed) was an alien artifact they could claim. Eventually they decided he was nothing more than a legend and filed everything they had on him. Him being a wizard might explain why they could never confirm anything. Their specialty is aliens, they'd hardly be prepared to deal with a wizard._

_That should help you along, you're closer to the source for any additional research._

_You mentioned e-mail. I can probably get you into the Torchwood e-mail. It'll be more primitive than what you're used to, it's nothing compared to my Vortex Manipulator, but if we can find a device that works over there, that should help a little._

_Keep me informed!_

_Jack_


	17. Chapter 16 - Daphne

Donna stepped back as the school owl winged away with the last of her orders. She was well on time for her Christmas gifts, December had only just started, but she didn't want to leave it too late and risk not having anything to give, since she didn't know how long these owl orders usually took to arrive. She hadn't even known they were a possibility, except she'd been thinking about what to give people, and eventually had asked Fred what to do, since first years weren't supposed to leave the castle until Christmas break. 

Together with Hermione, Lavender and Parvati, she'd perused the catalogs, the four of them lying on one bed in various more or less comfortable poses, discussing what they might buy for this or that person. Donna was glad enough with her roommates – sure, it was clear that the friendships were mostly herself and Hermione on one hand, and Lavender and Parvati on the other, and she wouldn't be telling the other two her secret any time soon, but they were always game for a fun girl's evening. Even Hermione was starting to enjoy them, provided she didn't have to give up too many of her library nights. The situation could have been much worse. 

She knew that Harry had also followed her example, although she wasn't aware how far he was with ordering everything. Neville, on the other hand, was planning on getting his grandmother to help. Donna guessed she could have asked Archie, but this way was fun too. It felt a bit like internet shopping, except different.

When she turned to go downstairs from the owlery, she nearly bumped into another student, avoiding the collision only by an awkward little skip to the side.

“Woops! Sorry, didn't see you there.”

The other person looked up, saw the crest on her robes, and took a step back, watching her with a wary look on her face. 

“That's quite alright,” was the answer.

Donna was taken aback for a moment by the girl's reaction. She vaguely recognised her from some shared classes, so she was a first year, and – a quick glance – a Slytherin. For the life of her, she couldn't remember enough interaction with her to warrant that much caution. She wracked her brain for the girl's name, landing (after what felt like an embarrasingly long time) on the right one.

“Greengrass, right?” she asked.

The girl nodded curtly. “Daphne. And you are...”

“Donna Noble,” she said, although she had the distinct impression Daphne already knew. She seemed like the type of person who didn't miss much.

“I'm sorry, miss Greengrass, did I hurt you in any way in the past two months?” See, she could do the polite talk with the best of them. Unless addressing an issue head-on was just not done, but then she did tell the Sorting Hat she was too direct for Slytherin. Besides, nobody had ever accused her of a lack of curiosity. If she wanted to know, she was damn well going to ask, and nobody could stop her.

“You're a Gryffindor,” Daphne answered.

It took all of Donna's considerable willpower not to give a sarcastic reply to that, opting instead for a bland “Yes, I am.”

“And I'm a Slytherin.”

“So I gathered.”

“It has been known for these types of encounters to evolve into hexing and jinxing.”

“And you're afraid I will hex and/or jinx you without the slightest provocation?”

Daphne shrugged. “It wouldn't be the first time. There are Gryffindors for whom 'being a Slytherin' is more than enough provocation.”

“What, because of that whole Slytherins are evil nonsense?”

Daphne nodded, a bit jerkily. 

“Well then, miss Greengrass, let me ask you something. I'm sure you're aware of my... blood status,” God, even saying the word left a nasty taste in her mouth, “because I haven't exactly been keeping it a secret. Would you hex or jinx me for being muggleborn?”

“Of course not, I'm not a savage.”

“Then I won't attack you for being a Slytherin. This whole 'House' business is divisive enough as it is. I will defend myself and my friends, though, just so you know. I'm sure that in these encounters you mentioned, the first hex doesn't always come from the Gryffindor's wand. What with the rhetoric coming from one Draco Malfoy's mouth, I'm not sure all of your housemates feel the same way as you about my origins.”

“Yes, he's a git. A lot of hot air, if you ask me, but we have to keep a civil tongue, his father's got the Minister's ear. I wouldn't worry too much about getting attacked by him.”

“I'll remember that. In any case, miss Greengrass, I will let you continue with your errand. I will talk to you later, if you are so inclined.”

Daphne nodded and threw her a little quirk of the mouth that might be called, with the right lighting, a smile.

“Likewise, miss Noble.”

***DNMCY1***

In the days that followed, she would exchange some words with Daphne whenever they passed in the hallways. Usually it was no more than some pleasantries to wish each other a good day, but it did not go unnoticed by her classmates. It was Ron who brought it up one day at dinner. The redheaded boy had been watching the friendships Harry was forming from the sidelines, but it seemed to Donna as if he was jealous. She just hadn't figured out yet if he was jealous of Harry for having more than one friend, or jealous of Donna, Neville and Hermione for being that close to the Boy-Who-Lived. 

For her own part, she was glad enough the friendship between Harry and Ron had cooled down. It wasn't that she disliked the boy as such, but compared to the friends she'd made, he was just so typically 11 that she had trouble containing her exasparation any time they spent time in close proximity. 

Case in point, the question he asked when he saw her nodding at Daphne.

“Why are you friendly with her?” he asked, with a rude jerk of his head to indicate who he meant.

Donna regarded him for a long moment, until he gradually turned red.

“Is there a problem with that?” she eventually asked.

“Well, she's a Slytherin!”

“I'd noticed, funnily enough. I still don't see the problem.”

“They're evil!”

“Oh, really? Evil, you say? Ok, what has Daphne done that is so evil?”

Ron flushed an even brighter red. She didn't know what he had thought would happen, even if he had been closer to her she wouldn't have let him get away with a question like that.

“Well... I don't know. But everybody knows all Slytherins were Death Eaters!”

Donna raised her eyebrows. “All of them? There was not even one Slytherin who didn't follow him, or who actively opposed him even? I suppose you know every single Slytherin that ever passed through Hogwarts then, that you can say that so categorically. Oh, and of course the other houses are so very virtuous, and there was not one Claw or Puff or Gryf who followed Voldemort.” 

She ignored the collective flinch from everyone within earshot.

“And even if that was the case, which I have a hard time believing, that still doesn't make Daphne evil, or a Death Eater. I might be very much mistaken, but I do believe the Dark Wanker got offed at some point in her first or second year of life, depending on when she was born. Unless you're going to tell me that he initiated newborn children there's no way she, or any of the current first year Slytherins, are Death Eaters.”

“Then what about Draco Malfoy?” he asked triumphantly, as if that was somehow a winning argument.

“Draco Malfoy is a git and a spoiled brat, he's an annoyance at best. In terms of evilness, he ranks at about the level of a gnat. For god's sake, he's 11! He might be a brainwashed little shit, kid can't help who his parents are. I'm not saying he definitely won't turn evil at some point down the line, I can't predict the future, but for the moment...”

Ron opened his mouth a few times, but no more words came out. She hoped he would at least think about her words, although she was afraid more arguments would have to happen before he could start to reconsider his prejudice.

“Anyway, that being said,” Donna continued, “you don't get to tell me who I should spend time with. Even IF Slytherin equaled evil, it'd still be my choice whether or not I want to associate with them. Your righteousness is not appreciated. I'm going for a walk.”

She needed a breath of fresh air after that. She wasn't terribly angry at Ron, who was after all only 11 and still had time to grow out of prejudices, she was just disappointed that no matter which group of people got together, prejudice was an issue at all. Of course she knew that people feared what they did not know, but it was just all so damn tiring. If it wasn't immigrants or aliens, it was muggleborns or Slytherins. Instead of getting to know other people and other groups, they just defined a random set of parameters and anyone who fell outside that was automatically labelled inferior in some way.

She hadn't gone far into the Entrance Hall when she heard footsteps behind her. Shortly after, her friends surrounded her, Neville on one side and Harry and Hermione on the other.

“You ok?” Neville asked.

She sighed. “Sure. I just have a very low tolerance for bullshit. We humans, magical or otherwise, can do so much better, we could be so much more, and instead we try to find reasons to put down anyone who's not like us. I wish it could be different.”

“Do you want to go to the couch room?” asked Hermione.

Not long after, they were sprawled over several couches. Harry hesitated for a moment, but then he took a breath and told Donna, “Thanks for what you said back there. I'm glad somebody said something.”

She tilted her head a bit to the side, considering the boy. “You're welcome. Any reason you're so glad?”

“The Sorting Hat nearly put me in Slytherin.”

She thought that was a confession he would not lightly have made if he'd stayed friends with Ron. She smiled. “Good for you. What made it choose Gryffindor instead?”

“Oh, er... I asked it. _'Not Slytherin'_ I said, so it chose Gryffindor instead.”

“I was nearly a Hufflepuff,” she volunteered. “We had a bit of a discussion and the Hat decided Gryffindor was the best choice, but I do value many of the same virtues, like loyalty and fair play.”

“Ravenclaw,” was Hermione's contribution. 

Donna snorted. “No, really? Who'd've thunk?” 

Hermione sniffed, but a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, so she wasn't actually offended.

“Also Hufflepuff,” Neville said. “I asked for Gryffindor, though, 'cause my Gran was expecting that – it... it was my father's house. I wonder if maybe it made a mistake, though... I don't feel very brave, most of the time.”

Donna laughed. “If any of us had any doubts about your bravery, Neville Longbottom, the troll incident put paid to that. I'll tell you something, if you want. It's a bit of a cliché, but true nevertheless. Bravery, my friend, is not a feeling. It's feeling afraid but choosing to do the right thing anyway. Recklessness, lack of fear... they're not the same thing as bravery. Some of these Gryffindors just haven't received the memo. You're plenty brave, all you lack is a bit of self-confidence.”

Neville blushed a bit, but smiled at her. “Thanks, Donna.”


	18. Chapter 17 - Christmas

In the following days, Donna had a bit of a dilemma. Christmas hols were coming up, and she needed to decide whether to stay at the castle or not. 

On the one hand, she'd quite like to see Jack again. On the other, all the others in their little group of friends were going home (or on holiday, as the case may be) except for Harry. She didn't really want to leave the boy who was rapidly becoming one of her best friends – not counting the Doctor, but the Doctor wasn't here and Harry was.

Eventually she decided to stay. Sure, Christmas was a time for family, and she did consider Jack her big brother since he helped her out, but Harry needed her more. Maybe next year she could convince Jack to invite him, that way she'd have the best of both worlds.

Harry looked happy at the prospect when she told him. “This is going to be the best Christmas ever!”

For a while it had looked as though Ron would be staying too, something about his parents and little sister going to visit his brother Charlie in Romania. That was family-minded of them. They had four sons living away from home for ten months out of twelve and they pick the weeks that they could come home to go abroad? In the end though, they decided to go after the new year, and so the Weasley brothers likewise went home.

Donna managed to convince Harry to spend some time at the start of the holiday to work through their assignments. Once done, they had the rest of the holiday to look forward to, without the work looming over their heads. They didn't even have to spend time in the library looking for Nicholas Flamel, since Jack had told them who he was. Of course she'd immediately shared the information with her friends.

They spent hours outside, pelting each other with snowballs or making the biggest snowman they could. They even looked up charms to help them in their task. Wingardium Leviosa was helpful enough to stack their snowballs on top of each other, but it didn't do much to help gather the snow together or tamp it down for example.

Donna didn't care that her mental age was supposed to be in the geriatric range, you were never too old to play in the snow. And such good snow it was too, it had been years since she'd seen snow like this. Decades!

After they were done, a fourth-year with an old-timey looking camera offered to take their picture. The following day, he gave them two pictures each. One was of the two of them in front of the monstrosity they'd created. They were waving at the viewer, or giving a thumbs-up. Sometimes they laughed while looking up at their creation, or they high-fived each other. 

It was fascinating, really, this wizarding photography. It didn't show one particular moment, the way she was used to, but rather it captured the general atmosphere at the time the picture was taken. The Harry and Donna in the picture didn't act out exactly what they'd really been doing, but all the gestures and laughing and waving were very much in the spirit of the moment.

The second picture had been taken a bit earlier. She'd never even noticed it being taken. The two of them were lobbing snowballs at each other, sometimes by hand, other times taking out their wands and using magic. In this picture, they didn't look up and wave at the viewer, or give any indication that they even knew there was a viewer. Maybe the picture-people only did that if the real people knew the picture was being taken. 

Donna smiled happily at the boy. “Thanks, love. We'll treasure these.”

When they weren't outside in the snow (or in the common room, warming up from being outside), they went exploring the castle, as well as visiting Fluffy, who was by now so used to them that he didn't even growl at them anymore, except to demand petting and food. Donna had taken to going to the kitchens beforehand and begging some choice morsels from the house-elves, so that she'd have something to give him, since her requests to Hagrid to let him out once in a while didn't seem to get anywhere. 

In the evenings they tried a few wizarding games. They were abysmal at them, but they had loads of fun regardless, frequently lying helpless with laughter.

Christmas morning Donna bounced into Harry's room, arms loaded with the gifts she'd found at the foot of her bed. She knew boys couldn't get into the girls' rooms, but the other way was no problem. Talk about double standards, but she wasn't complaining right now.

All of their dormmates had gone home for the holidays, and she didn't want to open her presents alone. She happily dumped her load on the bed next to Harry's, and turned to the still sleeping boy. 

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead! It's Christmas!” 

Harry rolled from his side to his back before prying open his eyes and blinking owlishly up at her. “Donna?” he asked in a sleepy voice, “what are you doing in my room?”

She laughed and handed him his glasses. “Opening presents, of course. Where's the fun in opening them all by my lonesome? Much more fun to share!”

Harry sat up and put his glasses on. “Presents? I...” just then, he noticed the pile at the foot of his bed. “I got presents! Donna, look, actual presents!”

Donna laughed, even as her heart broke a little for her friend. He was genuinely surprised, she was sure he had not been expecting anything. “Well go on then, what are you waiting for? Have at 'em!”

They quickly demolished their respective piles, with Donna just a bit less careful with the wrapping paper. There were gifts from her closest friends, of course, but her dormmates had also given a small token, and Jack and Archie had sent their gifts as well. Donna wondered for a moment if Jack would get to open her present today, or if the Rift would act up. She'd got him a selection of wizarding sweets, since she knew how much of a sweet tooth he had, and she was sure he'd enjoy discovering all the sweets he hadn't known existed.

She was done unwrapping by the time Harry slowly reached the end, as he was savouring each one. Or, well, every one except the coin he received from the Dursleys. Donna rolled her eyes when he showed her the 50p. “Nice. Why go through all the bother of sending something like that?”

Finally he came to the last package, which was wrapped in plain brown paper.

“It doesn't say who this is from,” Harry said.

“Secret admirer?” Donna joked while poking at it. Felt like some type of clothing, or something fabric-y anyway.

Harry shrugged and opened the package. Something grey and sort of shiny came slithering out. Harry picked it up and held it aloft.

“Looks like some sort of cloak, just not a terribly warm one,” Donna said. “Try it on, see how it looks on you.”

Harry complied, and Donna felt her jaw drop. “That is wicked!”

“What? What is it?”

“Look in the mirror!”

Harry dashed over, and his expression mirrored hers. “I'm invisible!” He drew the cloak over his head and completely disappeared. Donna approached the place he'd been standing and waved her arm in front of her. 

“Well, you're still solid, at least,” she reported when her arm connected with some part of his body. “Brilliant though, I don't think the Doctor ever had access to actual invisibility. I mean, he had his perception filters, but they don't work too well if you draw attention to yourself. And a bio-damper only blocks certain types of technology, but they don't make you physically invisible.”

While Harry took off the cloak, Donna noticed a bit of parchment on the floor. She picked it up and read the inscription on it. She snorted when she gave it to Harry.

“This belonged to your father, use it well? Really? Way to be mysterious. Unsigned and everything. Hey, you should keep that letter in your bedside table, you might get a clue about your mysterious benefactor if you get anything with the same handwriting.”

Once Harry had done so, they went down to the Christmas Feast together. And a feast it was! The tables groaned under more food than the handful of staying students could ever hope to eat. She hoped the leftovers wouldn't have to be thrown out. Then again, they had magic. Surely whatever was left could be preserved without it going bad within a day or two. If that was the case, they'd be eating turkey for a good long while. 

The rest of the day was spent equally enjoyably, and before she knew it, Christmas Day was over.


	19. Chapter 18 - The Mirror

When she came into the common room the following morning, she found Harry already up and waiting for her impatiently.

“There you are!” he said, as if she'd been sleeping until noon. “Let's get breakfast and then I have to tell you something.”

She raised her eyebrows, but she allowed him to drag her to the Great Hall. He didn't explain anything until they'd eaten and had retreated to the Couch Room. 

“Alright, spill. What's got your knickers in a twist?”

“Well, I couldn't wait last night to test out my new cloak,” he answered.

Donna laughed. “Of course you couldn't.”

He waved that away, too impatient to reply. “I nearly got caught by Filch and Snape, and then I stumbled into a room where there was this large mirror, and Donna,” he gripped her hand in his excitement, “I saw my family! Not just my mum and dad, but a whole family, with grandparents and uncles and aunts and everything!”

Donna's heart broke all over again at the sheer longing in the boy's voice.

“Harry, you're getting a hug now, just so you know.” That done, leaving Harry a tiny bit confused what brought that on, she asked: “Mind if I come with?”

Harry nodded earnestly. “I'm going back tonight. I really want you to see them too, I want to show them to everyone.”

Donna wasn't at all sure she'd actually see his family, but she was interested in this magic mirror all the same.

“Any reason why you want to go tonight?”

“I want to see them again, of course!”

“Yes, I get that, but I mean... it's still christmas hols, our homework is done until the new term starts, and we have a whole day ahead of us. Why not go now?”

Harry stared at her, as if that possibility had not even occurred to him. “Oh! Uhm... what if we get caught?”

“Doing what? If they didn't want us visiting the magic mirror, they should've hidden it better. If we wait until tonight, we'll be breaking curfew, so more chances of getting caught. If travelling with the Doctor has taught me one thing, it's that you generally get further if you act like you have every right to be where you are, which in this case is easier to pull off during the day.”

Harry laughed a bit ruefully while flattening his hair, a nervous habit he'd picked up somewhere. “I guess. It seems less adventurous than sneaking out of the dorms after curfew, though.”

Donna shrugged. “ I said it before and I'll say it again – being brave does not mean we have to be stupid too.”

They ended up visiting the magic mirror after lunch that day. Harry needed a while to remember his route the previous night, what with everything looking different in daylight, but with some encouragement from Donna – not to mention experience with exploring – he recognised a suit of armour, and from there he easily found the right door. He pushed it open and ran to the tall mirror standing in the middle of the deserted classroom, gazing into it reverently. Donna followed a bit more warily.

“See?” Harry whispered. Donna came up behind the boy and looked over his shoulder. 

“I can only see the two of us,” she said.

Harry moved away from the centre spot in front of the mirror. “Stand over here! Can you see them now? Or maybe you can see your own family?”

When Donna took up the vacated spot, she didn't know what to expect. Would she see Harry's family, as unlikely as that seemed? Her own mother Sylvia and Grampa Wilf?

In the end, it was an entirely different scene that unfolded in front of her eyes. She could see herself – her grown-up self. She knew instinctively that this was a reality where the Doctor had never been forced to wipe her memory, where she was the DoctorDonna with a brain that could keep up with the Human-Time Lord metacrisis. Behind her stood a tall blue box with its door invitingly open, showing the bigger dimension inside. Leaning against the box was a man with messy hair, a brown pinstripe suit and a long coat, grinning manically and every now and then wiggling his fingers in a kind of wave.

“Oh.”

That was all she could say, before gently placing her hand on the mirror glass, over the open TARDIS door. God, she missed that daft alien with his ~~daft~~ lovely ship. She closed her eyes, willing away the tears – not entirely successfully.

“Donna?” Harry asked, sounding concerned about her reaction. “What do you see?”

She bowed her head and let go of the mirror, taking a deliberate step back. Then another. She turned away and wiped the tears from her face with both her hands, before looking at Harry with a serious face. “An impossibility. A dream. That is a dangerous mirror, Harry. Please, please be careful.”

The boy looked taken aback at her vehemence, but even as they left he cast one longing look over his shoulder. She wasn't sure how successful he'd be in staying away.

In the end, he'd been going back in the evenings, and she had to watch his listless expression with worry during the day, trying to convince him to eat. On the third night after discovering the mirror, Gandalf revealed himself. He convinced Harry to stop obsessing over the mirror, so that was something. Perhaps she should have tried harder, but she couldn't begrudge him the small glimpse of a family long dead, not when he'd had nothing to remember them by before now.

At least he acted a bit more lively and interested after his talk with Gand- Dumbledore, even if he looked a little bit wistful at times.

“Harry,” she asked the following day, when she noticed him looking off into the distance again, “Do you have any pictures of your parents?”

There were only a couple of days left before the end of the holidays and the return of their friends, but she wanted to help him now, not later. Harry looked sad. “No, nothing. I don't think aunt Petunia kept any of them, or if she did she never showed me.”

“Ok, I thought you mentioned that. But people are always comparing you to your dad, right?”

“Yeah. But with my mum's eyes.”

“Right. Correct me if I'm wrong, but doesn't that imply to you that they actually knew your parents?”

“Well yeah, of course, but nobody's ever told me anything about them, other than what you said.”

“Do they know how little you know about them? Have you tried asking them for stories?”

Harry stilled, his eyes going just a bit wider. “You mean... go up to them and _ask_?”

Donna chuckled. “Yes, that is exactly what I mean.”

“That's an option?”

“Sure, why not? What's the worst that could happen? There's loads of teachers old enough that they must have taught them.”

“But what if they don't want to tell me?”

Donna shrugged. “Then they'll tell you so, and you'll know. At least you will have tried.”

***DNMCY1***

And that was how they found themselves in professor McGonagall's office later that day. The stern witch regarded them over the rim of her spectacles.

“Mister Potter, miss Noble. To what do I owe this visit, and during the school holidays no less?”

Donna nudged her friend. “Harry has a question,” she volunteered when the boy didn't immediately speak.

The professor turned to give him her full attention. “Mister Potter?”

Harry fidgeted under her gaze. “Well, uhm. I was... was wondering, uh...”

“Gryffindor courage, Harry. Spit it out,” Donna whispered.

A flick of the eyes and a slight purse of the lips – as if she was forcibly restraining herself from smirking – were the only signs McGonagall gave that she'd heard the words at all.

Harry nodded and took a deep breath.

“I was wondering if you knew my parents.”

This time she raised her eyebrows and sat back in her chair, crossing her hands in front of her and regarding the boy.

“Might I enquire where this question came from?”

Harry seemed to shrink a little, but when Donna touched his arm he rallied. 

“Well, I don't really know anything about them, you see, and Donna thought some of the teachers might have been here when they went to school, and since you're our Head of House we came to you first.”

All this was said quite rapidly, and when he was done he tensed up, as if anticipating rejection.

Professor McGonagall's eyes softened marginally. “I see. Please take a seat, both of you. You said you don't know anything about them? I should think your aunt would be able to tell you about your mother, at least, if not your father. Did she not?”

Harry shook his head and shrugged. “She told me my parents were useless and died in a car crash while driving drunk. That's about it. Oh, and she was jealous of mum being a witch, but she didn't tell me that so much as she ranted it at me when Hagrid gave me my letter.”

Again the professor pursed her lips, this time in disapproval. “Well, let's see if we can rectify the situation, hmm? I think this calls for tea and biscuits.”

And that was the way they spent their last couple of days of the holidays: seeking out anyone who might have taught or known Harry's parents, and begging them for stories.

One thing emerged from all of these stories clear as day. His mum had a very close friend during her time at Hogwarts, up until fifth year, at which point something happened to drive them apart. And that friend just happened to be their Potions teacher.

“But he hates me!” Harry said, when they were discussing the possibility of talking to someone who had been so close to his mum. Donna nodded. There was no point in denying it, when it was so obvious.

“It's your decision whether to reach out to him or not, Harry. I understand either decision. On the one hand, he was quite close to your mum, but on the other he has it out for you, for whatever reason.”

“Maybe I could wait a bit?” Harry asked hopefully. “See if he ever stops hating me?”

“Sure, you could, just don't hold your breath. Whatever the reason for his hatred, it probably originated during that time. I mean, prior to that first lesson in September, I don't think you ever talked with him?”

Harry shook his head.

“So it can't be about something you did personally. It wouldn't surprise me if Snape is having difficulties distinguishing between you and your dad. They didn't get along, according to... well, everyone. I'm sure there's some psychological name for that. Some fancy name for 'refusing to grow the hell up', no doubt.”

Harry let out a tiny laugh, which she counted as a win.

“Ok, but then we've talked to everyone else, right?”

“I think so, and in any case you have quite a lot more stories now than you did before. As far as I can see there is one more thing you could do, if you wanted.”

“What's that?”

“You could write that Lupin bloke that kept getting mentioned. He was as close to your dad as Snape was to your mum, and he's not threatening to turn you into potions ingredients every time you breathe.”

“Do you really think he'll want to hear from me, though? It's not like he ever came to check up on me in the past ten years.”

Donna shrugged. “Only one way to find out. If he replies, you can always ask why he never came. He might have had a good reason.”

“Yeah, ok. I'll think about it.”


	20. Chapter 19 - The Second Quidditch Game

Some days later, after the new term had started, Donna was sitting in the common room with a slight frown on her face. She'd just played (and lost) a game of Exploding Snap with Dean and Seamus, but after she'd wiped the soot off her face, she'd realised the time.

And the fact that one of her friends was not here. Well, two of them, but Harry was having Quidditch training again – Wood was going crazy preparing for the next match. 

“Hey, Hermione, do you know where Neville is?”

Her friend looked up as if only just noticing the absence – not surprising, considering how deeply she'd been engrossed in her book.

“He went to the library earlier, I think.”

“Wouldn't he have been back by now though? He doesn't usually stay out quite so near to curfew.”

“Hmm, you're right. I didn't realise how late it was.”

“I'm gonna go look for him. If he just lost track of time, no harm no foul. If something happened...”

“I'll come with, hold up.”

Together, the two girls slipped out of the portrait hole and walked the quickest route to the library. They had not gone far when they found their wayward friend, hopping oddly towards them. When he saw them, he seemed to sag with relief.

“Thank Merlin! I thought I'd have to hop all the way to the common room.”

“Neville! What happened?” Donna asked, while Hermione countered the Leglocking jinx that had been cast on him.

“Malfoy. He ambushed me outside the library, said he needed to practice. Who better than the near squib?”

Donna could tell he was near tears but trying to put a brave face on. She wanted to tell him it was ok to cry, but she didn't think that would be well received. She couldn't wait for the time when it was ok for boys and men to have emotions, although she knew much would have to happen first. 

Instead, she put her arm over his shoulder as they walked back to Gryffindor tower. “Oh, Neville. Don't listen to Malfoy and his goons.”

“Yeah,” Hermione added, “you're worth twelve of him.”

“I was still the leglocked sucker. I tried to do one of those shield charms we briefly saw in defense, but it was so weak his jinx cut right through it.”

By this time they'd reached the portrait and could climb back inside.

“Here's an idea,” Donna said. “How about we find another empty room, the castle is bound to have more of them, and arrange it into a sparring room? I wanted to practice some shield charms myself, and maybe learn some extra jinxes, just to be able to defend myself. If magic is like any other skill, practice makes perfect. Besides, there's only one way to get Malfoy to back off, and that's to show him you can bite back.”

Hermione cast her a reproachful look. “Or you could go and talk to professor McGonagall, Neville. She can put a stop to him.”

Donna snorted. “No, she can't. All that will do is make him twice as vicious, and extra careful to not get caught. Or, well,” she looked at Neville, “you can if you want to, Nev, just don't expect complaining to help in any way.”

Neville nodded grimly. “I'm not going to McGonagall. I just need to get better.”

***DNMCY1***

Soon after that incident, it was time for the first Quidditch match of the new term. Gryffindor was flying against Hufflepuff, and the game was refereed by Snape, of all people. They weren't sure what to think about this development. Snape didn't strike any of them as particularly Quidditch-minded, so -someone- had done their best to make him referee. The problem was they were still unsure who'd been jinxing Harry's broom, and so they had to be prepared for every eventuality. In the end, they could do little more than arm themselves with the jinxes they'd been teaching themselves to get back at Malfoy, and to keep their eyes peeled.

They'd hardly sat down on the Quidditch stands when Neville suddenly ducked, grabbing his head.

“Oh, sorry, Longbottom, didn't see you there,” an unwelcome voice said. When Donna looked behind them, she saw Malfoy grinning at his two gorillas like he'd just said something witty. She rolled her eyes.

Malfoy loudly asked how long Harry would stay on his broom this time. Donna wondered if he even realised he was joking about a student falling to his death. Probably not.

The blond didn't get the reaction he was obviously craving, so he moved his insults to the rest of the team, and finally to Neville, who had enough. He turned around with a reddish tinge on his cheeks.

“I'm worth twelve of you, Malfoy.”

Malfoy howled with laughter, but Donna bumped her shoulder against Neville's to let him know she had his back, even if she was still focussed on the game to make sure nothing happened to Harry.

“Longbottom, if brains were gold you'd be poorer than the Weasleys, and that's saying something.”

Well, that wouldn't do. A quick glance told Donna that Hermione still had her eyes firmly on the game, so she felt safe to give her attention to the altercation. She turned around.

“And yet he has more real friends than you will ever have in your life. Huh, I guess money can't buy everything.”

Malfoy sputtered in a way that almost made her giggle.

“I have friends!” he finally managed.

“Sure you do,” she said in her best condescending voice, “and their friendship has nothing at all to do with daddy dearest's name or money.”

When Malfoy didn't have an immediate come-back to that, she sighed. “Look, Malfoy... did you come here to taunt us because your favourite person is up in the air or were you rooting for Gryffindor?”

Malfoy drew himself up with an offended air. “I am NOT rooting for Gryffindor!”

She considered pointing out that he didn't deny Harry being his favourite person, but settled for, “Why are you in the Gryffindor stands then?”

Malfoy grumbled but subsided a little. Soon enough, though, his smirk returned, and he turned to Neville again.

“So tell me, Longbottom, which of your parents is the reason you're such a squib? Your dad was one of us, so it must have been your mum, right? How close to a mudblood was she?”

Neville turned suddenly pale and eerily calm. Donna thought she could see in his countenance the beginnings of the man he would one day become, if his spirit wasn't crushed before then. He stood up, straightened his robes, and looked straight at Malfoy, with none of the cringing fear the blond boy had come to expect.

“Never. Ever. Insult my mother again,” he said, and before Malfoy knew what was happening, he drew back his fist and hit him on the nose. Donna whooped, right around the same time that all the stands erupted in cheers. Hermione was yelling something about Harry having seen the snitch, and Donna turned back to the game just in time to see his hand close around the fluttering little ball.

Donna grinned and pumped her fist in the air, before turning back to the more immediate threat.

Malfoy was standing with his hand covering his nose, which was dripping blood, a wide-eyed look of disbelief etched on his face. Crabbe and Goyle were cracking their knuckles, but by this time Dean had noticed something was going on, and he and Seamus were coming up, as well as Parvati and Lavender. Hermione, who could finally relax her vigilance a bit now that the game was over, turned around as well. In the face of those odds, the goons didn't dare attack.

“You hid be!” Malfoy said a lot less pretentiously than his normal speech. He sounded the same way he looked, as if he couldn't believe anyone could dare raise a hand to his person. “When by fader...” he started, but Donna interrupted him.

“Did he?” she asked with a flinty look.

Malfoy blinked. “Wha'? Ov course he did, you saw hib! By nose is bleeding!”

She shrugged nonchalantly. “I've got a stand full of people here who could swear no such thing ever happened. Nosebleeds do start without a visible cause sometimes, and you know it was right around the time Harry caught the snitch, the excitement must have simply overwhelmed you.” She batted her eyelashes in a mockery of innocence, then she adopted his trademark smirk against him. “Care to find out just how low on daddy's list of priorities your schoolyard brawl is?”

That finally convinced Malfoy to retreat, presumably to the infirmary, leaving the Gryffindors to celebrate their victory. Harry was carried around on their shoulders, a dazed but happy look on his face. Even the Hufflepuffs came up to congratulate him, with many pointed comments about fairness and fair play. Sounded like they hadn't appreciated their referee of the day giving them penalties for spurious reasons.

By the time the party had moved to the common room, they'd lost Harry somewhere. He was probably changing out of his Quidditch gear, but it took longer than expected for him to make his appearance. Hermione was just gaining momentum in her worrying when he appeared.

“Where have you been?” she shrieked.

Donna grabbed her shoulder, and mimed turning down the volume. Hermione laughed sheepishly and blushed a little. “Sorry,” she said at a more normal volume.

Neville was grinning at Harry. “Well done, mate, good catch.”

Donna snorted and poked his shoulder. “God, you're like the quintessential Brit, Nev. Stiff upper lip, what. Tell him what you did!”

Neville's grin grew, if possible, even wider. “I socked Malfoy right on the face! Gave him a bloody nose!”

Harry guffawed. “Ha! Way to go mate, wish I could have seen it! Anyway, you'll never guess what I overheard. Can we go to the Couch Room?”

Hermione shook her head. “Too close to curfew. You know professor Snape will be out for blood after that game.”

“Right, and Nev and I can't come up to your dorm,” Harry said.

“No, but we can come up to yours,” Donna decided. “Best do that now, while the party is in full swing.”

Once up in the dorm, Harry explained that he'd seen Snape going into the forest, and when he'd followed, he'd heard him talk to Quirrell. When he reported the conversation, Donna frowned. “So... Snape was threatening Quirrell?”

Harry nodded.

“Ok. So who's the bad guy here? What do we know for sure? Hermione, do you have a pen and paper in that bag of yours? Silly question, of course you do. Alright, let's list everything we're sure of, and then we can write a second list with conjectures.”

Hermione rummaged through her bag and came up with the desired items. “Alright, certainties first.”

Harry was the first to answer. “The third floor corridor is guarded by a Cerberus named Fluffy.”

“Right,” Neville continued, “and it's guarding the Philosopher's Stone.”

“Better put that under conjecture,” Donna told Hermione, who was scribbling away. “We're fairly sure, but we haven't actually seen it.”

There was a moment of silence, then Neville said, “there was definitely a troll loose during Halloween, which might or might not be related.”

“Yes, and Harry's broom got jinxed during his first game, which involved professors Snape and Quirrell in some capacity,” Hermione added, without pausing her writing. “Again, it might or might not be related, but better to add it, I think.”

“And now this threat that I overheard,” Harry said.

Donna nodded thoughtfully, tapping a finger against her leg. “That does seem to indicate Snape and Quirrell are on opposite sides, corroborated by our own conjecture that in the case of Harry's broom, one of them was jinxing it and the other was counterjinxing. What do we have in the conjecture column?”

Other than the Philosopher's Stone, they added the possible extra guards; since Fluffy was standing over a trapdoor, they didn't know what else might be down there.

Someone must have let the troll in during Halloween, but whether that someone had been Snape or Quirrell, there was no knowing without more proof.

It all depeneded on whether Quirrell was the poor, victimless defense teacher standing between the dungeon bat and his prize, or whether Snape was the misunderstood anti-hero and Quirrell a really good actor.

“There's not much point going on until we have more information,” Donna said when they'd gone back and forth on the topic several times. “Lets go down for the rest of the party, tomorrow we can discuss how to find evidence one way or the other.”

The suggestion was met with approval, and together they went down again for another round of butterbeer.


	21. Chapter 20 - The Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Norbert(a) is born.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It never made sense to me how in the book, when Harry realises Hagrid must have told the secret of how to get past Fluffy to the stranger in the pub, suddenly they're convinced the theft is going to happen THAT night... while Hagrid had given the information weeks before (as far as I understand the text, anyway).

In the weeks that followed, they tried to find out more information – unsuccessfully. For whatever reason, the would-be thief was laying low, and so was his opponent. Madam Pomfrey kept her promise to keep a close eye on their suspects, but despite her and their own best efforts, they could not discover who the thief was, so for now they were forced to give it a rest.

Hermione, in the meantime, was losing her mind over the approach of exams, even going so far as to draw up a study schedule for the others. When she tried to give her a copy, Donna decided enough was enough. 

“You have to calm down, Hermione,” she told the other girl, whose hair seemed to get frizzier every day.

“What do you mean, calm down? We need to pass these exams to get into second year. They're very important. I should have started studying months ago!”

“You really shouldn't have,” she reassured her friend. “I know it doesn't seem like it now, but these exams are not that important in the long run. All they're doing is measuring your current level of understanding. Yes, we can study for them already, but you're hardly leaving any room for relaxing, and that is just not healthy. You're 11, this much stress is not good for you.”

“I'm 12, actually,” Hermione said.

Donna blinked. “Really? When was your birthday?”

“Oh, back in September. My birthday is the 19th.” Hermione shrugged. “It's not that big a deal.”

“Yes, it is! You're my friend, I want to give you a gift! Well, it'll be a belated gift then, and you're not getting out from under a celebration next year, ok?”

Donna managed to wrangle Hermione's excessive study sessions down to manageable levels, factoring in some free time as well. Combined with the piles of homework being assigned by the teachers, they spent lots of time in the library, but Neville and Harry were grateful that at least they went outside some of the time. It was a fine balance, but they managed to compromise.

One fine Saturday afternoon, they were lying by the lake. It was the first really good spring day, so they'd decided to enjoy that, rather than spend another minute in the musty library. Hermione had her nose buried in a book, as per usual, but the other three were talking. 

At one point, Neville was looking straight at the castle when he noticed something.

“Is that Hagrid?” he asked, sitting up a bit.

The half-giant was indeed coming down the steps, furtively looking from side to side. It wasn't that odd to see him striding around, going about his gamekeeping duties, but right at this moment he was doing everything in his power to appear as guilty as possible. His whole bearing was positively screaming 'I'm doing something I shouldn't!'

Donna looked at the gamekeeper, then at Harry and Neville. The boys looked back at her, and started grinning at the same time. As one, the three of them stood up.

“Come on, Hermione,” Donna said, while keeping an eye on Hagrid, who seemed to be going towards his hut. “We're going investigating!”

“What?” Hermione looked up, blinking a little to shift her focus from her book to Donna.

“Investigating. I want to know what Hagrid is up to.”

In fairness to Hermione, she only grumbled a little bit as she got up and put her book into her bag.

“What makes you think he's up to something?” she asked while shouldering her bag.

Donna raised her eyebrows. “Just look at him.”

Hermione did, and snorted. “Yeah, ok, you've got a point. Let's go.”

The four of them followed the big man to see what was happening, but in the end he really only went to his hut, acting suspiciously the whole way.

Without needing a discussion, they moved to the door. Harry knocked.

“Eh? Who's there?” came Hagrid's voice, before the door opened a tiny crack – just enough for one eye to peer through.

When he saw them, the big man sighed and opened the door wider for them to enter, then closed it with a suspicious glance outside.

The inside of the hut was stiflingly hot, the fire blazing despite the warm weather. Something was definitely up. 

Harry and Hermione started asking Hagrid questions about Fluffy and about what else might be guarding the Philosopher's Stone – more as a distraction than because they thought he'd tell them anything more. Meanwhile, she and Neville poked about the hut, trying to find what he was hiding.

The obvious first place to look was the roaring fire, where... 

“Are you seeing what I'm seeing?” she asked Neville in a low voice.

“I guess so, if you're seeing an egg sitting in the fire.”

They moved back to the others, confident they'd found Hagrid's secret.

Hermione had managed to flatter Hagrid into revealing which professors had contributed to the security – a list that included both of their suspects.

At the first opportunity, Donna spoke up.

“Hagrid, why is there an egg in your fire?”

Hagrid's eyes went comically wide, as if he'd honestly thought he could have kept it from them. “Egg?” he tried. “Wha' egg? There's no egg.”

Donna coughed. “These are not the droids you are looking for?” she muttered, low enough that Hagrid didn't hear her, although she could see Hermione smothering a laugh from the corner of her eye. Then she spoke up again. “Yes, there is, Hagrid. The question is, what is it doing there?”

Hagrid sighed and slumped a little. “Fine. It's a dragon egg. I'm tryin' ta hatch it.”

Donna stared. So did the other three.

“Wait, no, sorry. I thought you said... dragon egg, and hatching, in the same sentence. Tell me I misheard.”

The indignation on Hagrid's face was sign enough that she had not, in fact, misheard.

“Hagrid!” Hermione said. “You live in a wooden house!”

Donna shook her head. She wasn't feeling very much like an 11-year-old at the moment, but neither was she the DoctorDonna. Instead, she was channeling her grown-up self, the one that had children of her own.

“That's not even the main issue here. Hagrid... you live _next to a school!_

The half-giant crossed his arms defensively.

“Yeh, so? I can control it!”

“Can you?” Donna asked. “Can you really? I know that dogs – gentle, loving, doting dogs – can hurt the people in their families sometimes. There's more than one account of a dog playing with a toddler, and when the toddler runs away some ancient instinct wakes up and sees 'prey'. And that's just dogs, who've had the wild bred out of them for as long as humans have domesticated animals. 

“You want to hatch an actual wild creature near a school full of prey. I'm sorry, Hagrid, but you'll have to find a better solution. I'm not letting you endanger students' lives just because you have an underdeveloped sense of danger. Either you get rid of that egg, or I -will- tell someone in charge. We all love you, but if you can't prioritize the safety of students over your pet projects, perhaps you should think really carefully whether you have the right job.”

Hagrid's eyes filled with tears, and for a moment she felt bad about her words. Not enough to rescind them, though. He needed to know that you just didn't do something like that with children nearby, it was a recipe for disaster. As he sat down heavily on one of his overlarge chairs, Neville took over the conversation.

“Where did you get a dragon egg, anyway? I'm fairly sure that's illegal.”

“Oh, er... a chappie down the pub had it. I won it off 'im in a game o' cards. Seemed mighty keen ta get rid of it, though.”

“That seems... unlikely,” Donna said. “Am I the only one who thinks that's just a bit suspicious? What did this guy look like?”

“I dunno, he kept his hood up the whole time. The Hog's Head, not the best place. There's always a couple o' people there don't want ta be known.”

“Better and better,” Donna muttered.

Harry was also starting to look a bit suspicious. “So a person you don't know, who could be anyone, just happens to start a card game with someone who just happens to have wanted a dragon since they were small – don't deny it, you told me the first time we met. You... didn't mention Fluffy, did you?”

Hagrid scratched his beard, thinking about the question. “Oh, well... there were a few drinks involved, yeh know, but let's see... He said something about raisin' a dragon bein' a responsibility, so I said, well, it's all about knowin' how ta calm 'em. Take Fluffy, for example. Play 'im a bit of music an' he's docile like a little lamb.”

Horrified stares answered that statement. Hagrid shifted uneasily. “I... should not have said that...”

Hermione rallied first. “You told a complete stranger how to get past the guard dog?”

“Well, I mean... I guess? But it's not like I said what kind o' dog he is!”

Donna rubbed her temples. She could feel a headache coming up. 

“Ok, it might not be that bad yet. I hardly think our thief is going to make a bid for the Stone while Dumbledore's still in the castle, but he does know how to get past the first obstacle now. The more pressing concern right now is the living fire hazard you want to raise. What's it going to be, Hagrid?”

It took some more talks after that, and Donna never knew if it was out of genuine concern for the students or because he realised she'd meant what she'd said, but in the end Hagrid agreed to contact a dragon reserve, to give 'little Norbert' the life he deserved. 

The reserve answered quickly enough. They could come and collect the dragon, but only after it was born. If the egg was transported while at a critical stage, it would not hatch. There was nothing for it but to wait for the dragon to come out before they could get rid of it.

Of course, witnessing such an event was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, so when Harry received a note during dinner saying 'It's now!', they quickly scarfed down their food and practically ran to Hagrid's hut. The egg was sitting on the table, and they were just in time to see the first cracks appearing.

Slowly the cracks grew wider, until a little bit of eggshell fell down. In the hole it left, they could see a tiny elongated snout, already filled with rows of teeth, pushing to widen the hole. Very soon the dragon's head was poking out and it was pushing with its shoulders and scrabbling with its tiny claws, until finally it fell out of the egg and onto the table.

“Aww, look at 'im,” Hagrid sniffed. “He's perfect!”

The tiny dragon was exploring along the table. Then it lifted its snout into the air, stood still for a moment... and sneezed, a full-body sneeze that started deep in its belly and ended with a puff of smoke escaping its mouth.

“It's... cute, I guess,” Donna said, although judging by the expression worn by the others, they didn't quite agree with that assessment. “Too bad it doesn't stay that way. When are the dragon people here?”

“Oh, err... I owled 'em today tha' it's hatchin', so... what with prep'rations an' that, prob'ly some time this week. I'll let ya know when, an' you can come visit any time before then, o'course.”

Neville suddenly sat up from where he'd been looking at the dragon. “What's that?” he asked, looking at the window. “I think I saw someone!” 

Harry rushed over and looked outside. “It was Malfoy!” he said. “Did he see the dragon?”

“Let's work from the assumption that he did,” Donna replied. “Good thing the arrangements are already in place. Now we can only hope they come sooner rather than later. The sooner Norbert is on his way, the easier I will rest.”

As they walked back to the castle, Donna thought about Malfoy. Probably he'd seen their scramble to get to Hagrid's hut, and had followed them for reasons of his own, likely to get them into trouble, which seemed to be a hobby of his. Could she use that penchant of his?

“Hey,” she asked the other three, “how about we play a little prank on our ferrety friend?”

“Go on,” Harry said slowly. As she explained her plan, a wide grin started forming on all of their faces.

“Let's do it!”


	22. Chapter 21 - The Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donna sings a song... in the middle of breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we have it! This scene right here is the whole reason I started writing this story. I hope it does not disappoint!

In the end, it only took the dragon reserve two days to dispatch some people to collect Norbert. They even brought papers to prove they had the right to transport a newly hatched dragon. Hagrid met them just on the boundary of the Hogwarts grounds, so they wouldn't have to enter the wards, and they came at dinnertime, when almost everyone was inside eating. They left by broom, the crate with the baby dragon suspended between them, because other means of magical transportation played havoc on a dragon body.

As far as Donna was concerned, they didn't come a day too soon. She didn't like Malfoy's smirk every time he saw them, but then she didn't have to like it. If he was that confident he could get them into trouble, he'd only be more likely to take their bait.

Her plan was simple enough. As soon as they knew the exact date the dragon handlers would arrive, she and Hermione faked a letter with the most ridiculous plan they could come up with, involving transporting the dragon in a crate to the top of the astronomy tower. They set the date for three days after the actual pick-up.

Then it was just a matter of Harry talking to Neville about 'that letter about you-know-what in Hagrid's hut' within hearing distance of Malfoy. That same evening, Neville reported the fake letter gone.

At that point, the prank was out of their hands. Either Malfoy didn't take the bait, in which case nothing happened, or he'd use the information to get them into trouble, and come away with a bad experience himself.

Hermione had even unearthed a charm that would erase the letter as soon as the date mentioned in it had gone, so even if he tried to use that as proof of their wrongdoing, all he'd have left would be a bit of pristine parchment. The only risk was that he could show the letter to a professor beforehand, but that was a risk they were willing to take.

They made sure to keep visiting Hagrid even after Norbert had been picked up, to give the impression the dragon was still there. They used the time to console the half-giant to his loss, and only a little bit to pepper him with questions about Fluffy and the other protections.

On the date mentioned in their letter, Malfoy kept smirking at them, but no professor confronted them, so they were reasonably sure he was going to do something stupid.

This was confirmed the following morning, when Malfoy was sitting alone at the Slytherin table, sporting the mother of all sulks, while the hourglass showed his house had lost 20 points.

As it turned out, he had tried to catch them singlehandedly. McGonagall had found him wandering near the astronomy tower, or so the rumour mill went. They shared a good laugh when Malfoy glared at them like his predicament was their fault. Donna waved cheekily at him, causing his glare to intensify to murderous levels, before turning to her own breakfast. That'd teach him to steal other people's letters – fake or otherwise.

By the time she'd finished eating, most of the Hall had filled up, although only a few teachers were keeping an eye on things. When she rose from her seat, she was suddenly confronted by Malfoy.

“This is all your fault, Noble!” he hissed. She raised her eyebrows at him, unimpressed.

“Is it? I forced you to get up in the middle of the night for a little midnight stroll, did I? And worse, get caught doing it? I thought Slytherins were supposed to be good at sneaking? Looks like you might be an exception...”

“Argh!” he spat. “You stupid mudblood!” Judging from the gasps behind her, he'd just called her something quite bad, but since she had no context for the word, she didn't feel insulted. Instead, she started grinning, as the word jogged the memory of a song so ingrained in mundane culture, it still popped up all over the place even decades after it was first released. And best of all, it was from the eighties, meaning...

“Oi! Thomas!” she called. And then she stomped her foot twice, and clapped her hands once.

Dean started laughing and followed suit. Stamping his feet wasn't so easy while sitting down, but instead he hit the table with his hands. Beat beat clap, beat beat clap. By the fourth time, more people were taking up the rythm – all of them muggleborn or muggleraised. The wizard-raised students looked on in confusion, unsure what was happening.

Still grinning, Donna turned to Malfoy and started singing, while she approached him and patted him on both cheeks.

“Buddy, you're a boy, make a big noise  
Playing in the street, gonna be a big man someday,  
You got mud on your face, you big disgrace,  
Kicking your can all over the place, singing...”

And just like that, half of the Great Hall joined her song.

“We will, we will, rock you!”

If the teachers had not noticed the song before, they certainly did now. However, with every table showing stamping and clapping students, some of whom had jumped up on their benches so they could make more noise, they had some trouble locating the source, giving Donna time for the second verse. 

“Buddy, you're a young man, hard man,  
Shouting in the street, gonna take on the world someday,  
You got blood on your face, you big disgrace,  
Waving your banner all over the place.”

By this time, McGonagall and Snape had found them, and come to investigate what the disturbance was about, although they couldn't immediately ask what was happening, as the chorus of “We will, we will, rock you!” reverberated through the Hall and drowned out anything they might say. In fact, by now the beat had been taken up by some of the more progressive purebloods.

Snape was the first to lose his patience, since the headmaster didn't seem inclined to put a stop to the spectacle – and in fact was tapping along to the beat with a smile on his face.

The bang that issued from Snape's wand served its purpose in that the beat and the song both died away, although the students that were already standing up didn't sit back down, intent on watching the follow-up. It was rare enough that a disturbance took up the whole Hall like this, and they wanted to know the end of it, too.

“Miss Noble, what is the meaning of this?”

She looked innocently up at him, a feat made easier by her little de-aging trick. Nobody could pull off innocent like a not-quite-teenager. 

“I was just... singing a song, sir. Oh, and promoting inter-house unity, since that seems rather low on the staff's list of priorities.”

“And harassing one of your fellow students?” he asked menacingly.

She couldn't find it in herself to be afraid of his tough act. Wherever his loyalties might lie, whether he was the would-be thief or the Stone's protector, he was a bully, and he paled in comparison to the bullies that the Doctor made it his life's work to fight. Even within her own lifetime, without factoring the Doctor's memories, she'd fought against the supremest bully of them all, Davros... fought him and won. Severus Snape quite simply did not compare.

“Harassing, sir? Oh no, I would never. See, as I understand it, harassment implies going out of your way to bother another student with unwanted attention. Which would you say is closer to that definition, the student who sings a song that many people join into of their own free will? Or the one that goes to a table not his own, in order to call someone a mudblood?”

Snape looked towards Draco for a moment, brows drawn and lips pinched. At least the boy looked abashed, although that might still be an after-effect from being the subject of Donna's song. Snape pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment, then shook his head.

“Detention, I think, miss Noble.”

She doffed an imaginary hat at him, but was spared a reply by McGonagall's voice.

“And for mister Malfoy too. I will not tolerate the use of that word in this school.”

Snape looked sharply at her but did not comment, so Draco withdrew tactfully back to the Slytherin table while Donna and her friends made their way out of the Great Hall. She could feel the greasy git's disapproving gaze boring into the back of her head. She didn't care, since everywhere in the Great Hall there were muggleborns explaining to their pureblood friends who Queen were and why they really should give them a try if ever they had the chance. She counted this a definite win.

“Worth it!” she laughed when they were finally outside.


	23. Chapter 22 - Detention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Into the forest...

Snape was on a roll that week, as if he was on a personal mission to prove that it was possible for her to respect him even less than she already did. By the time her detention rolled around, she'd been joined by Harry, Hermione and Neville. The boys had been paired for the class, when Malfoy had thrown a handful of Kneazle hair into their cauldron. He hadn't even tried to be sneaky about it. The whole thing had exploded spectacularly, it was a wonder nobody had been injured.

The end result was a zero on the brew of the day and a detention for the boys 'for endangering the lives of their fellow students', and one for Hermione when she tried to explain what happened.

Donna stared at Malfoy's self-satisfied smirk until he noticed her, at which point she tapped out a subtle rythm with her hand – tap tap clap, tap tap clap. His smirk disappeared and he glowered at her, so she smiled sweetly back at him.

She did resolve once again to discuss with Jack how best to deal with a bullying teacher. She'd been reporting every incident since the start of the year, they were now nearly at the end, and nothing had changed. It seemed increasingly unlikely that next year would show improvement, so she wanted a plan in place before that time.

In any case, that was how the party trailing a muttering Filch that evening consisted of five students, rather than two. Donna wondered if they were really the only students with a detention today, or if detentions were divided by year.

Spring was in the air and the days were lengthening, but even so the light was already failing. They crowded close to the lantern Filch was carrying. He revealed they were going to Hagrid's hut to serve their detention with the gamekeeper. At the relieved looks on their faces (if not Malfoy's), the old man laughed nastily.

“Think you'll have an easy time then, eh? Well think again! It's into the forest you're going!”

Donna bit her lip. She felt a laugh tickling at the back of her throat, but she didn't think now was the appropriate time to release it. Was he serious? 

Malfoy's reaction to the caretaker's words was quite the opposite. He stopped walking and refused to take another step. “Into the forest? We can't go in there!” the boy said, fear evident in his voice. 

Just then Hagrid came up to meet them, a lantern bobbing in one hand and a large crossbow held in the other. Fang followed close on his heels.

Filch grinned nastily at them. “I'll be back at dawn... for what's left of you.”

At dawn? They... didn't need to sleep? The urge to laugh became stronger, and she hid her face against Neville's shoulder, while Malfoy tried to argue with Hagrid that going into the forest was a servant's job. At least Hagrid wasn't impressed with Malfoy's attempt to drag his father into it, so that was something.

And then Hagrid showed them something silvery lying on the ground. He explained that it was unicorn's blood, and their job tonight was to go into the forest and find the unicorn, which was either injured or dead. And that was it, that was the last straw. The laughter at the whole ridiculous evening burst forth, and it was no use trying to hide it anymore.

“Donna? Are yeh alrigh'?” Hagrid asked, unsure why she'd started laughing when he talked about a dead unicorn. 

Donna waved her hand, but she needed a moment longer to calm down enough to answer Hagrid.

“I'm sorry. It's just, you're taking first years... to the forbidden forest... in the dark... hunting for a unicorn, while its killer is on the loose. You said it yourself, it's the second unicorn, meaning whatever is responsible is out there. And you don't see a problem with any of that? On top of that, apparently this detention may last until the dawn, if we can believe Filch, because... I don't know, sleep is for the weak?

“But alright, fine, whatever. Let's go to the forest that is forbidden to students except when there's unicorn-killing evil afoot. Fuck all we can do about it, maybe levitate him or shine a light at him, but I guess the grown-ups know best. Allons-y!”

She stomped along the earth track Hagrid had brought them to, while bringing the DoctorDonna more to the front of her mindset, since that would leave her better equipped to deal with the current situation.

She wondered if that was how a schizophrenic felt. Or... what was the term again? Multiple personality disorder? Something else? She didn't remember the correct term right at this moment, but it was something like that. Except people who suffered from that generally didn't remember their different personalities, whereas the DoctorDonna was just part of her – albeit a part that she did not show many people.

To be fair, she should probably refuse to serve this detention, if only for the safety of her friends – and Malfoy. There were several reasons she didn't. For one thing, she didn't know if this little excursion had been approved by either the headmaster or the deputy headmistress. 

But the most important reason she didn't refuse? Well, she could be honest with herself. It was just never going to happen, was it? If there was even the slightest chance that this unicorn might be found and helped, she had to take it.

Then she came to a junction, and she had to wait for the others, who hadn't been quite as quick as her. She took out her wand and cast a Lumos, but the white light at the tip of her wand did little more than emphasize how dark the rest of the forest was. It was a very different sort of light than the warm yellow cast by Hagrid's lamp. Once everyone had joined her at the junction, Hagrid looked either way thoughtfully. “Best to split inter two parties, follow the trail either way.”

Malfoy was the first to claim Fang, which Donna didn't really get. If you wanted to be safe, wasn't it more logical to stick with the largest figure around? She could easily believe nothing would harm Hagrid, whereas Fang... well, no offense to the dog, but she could imagine worse things living in the forest that would not be deterred by a boarhound. 

Still, by that reckoning, she'd really rather her friends were with Hagrid. Despite their run-in with the troll at Halloween, they were not nearly as used to going into danger as she was.

“I'll go with blondie and Scooby-doo over there,” she said.

“Alrigh',” Hagrid rumbled, “so Harry an' Hermione can come with me, an' Neville can go with you, ok? Here's another lamp, better 'n wandlight ter see the blood. Now, if ye find the unicorn, ye send up green sparks, righ'? An' if yer in trouble, send up red sparks, we'll come and find yeh. Let's go.”

With that, the two groups split up. As the forest grew thicker around them, Donna wondered if Hagrid would even be able to see any sparks they sent up, but she kept her doubts to herself. Malfoy kept glancing fearfully around and jumping at every sound. Neville was less jumpy than that, but even he kept close to her shoulder. The forest at night was every bit as creepy as one would expect, so she'd be quite glad when this whole night was over.

Donna had lost track of how long they had been walking, looking for the trail of silvery unicorn blood, when a branch snapped somewhere to their right. Before she could suggest going to see if maybe that was the unicorn, Fang broke loose and ran back the way they'd come, and at the same time Malfoy shot red sparks into the air.

She couldn't even blame him.

Honestly, he'd lasted longer than she would have thought. Had they really expected any other outcome, sending 11-year-olds into a dangerous forest at night? Some of whom had probably never even been alone outside in the dark?

“Ok,” she said, “no problem. The others will come to investigate, so I suggest the two of you wait for them here while I go and see what made that sound. Sound good?”

Malfoy was already nodding, probably glad he wouldn't have to go himself, but Neville frowned.

“I can't let you go into danger alone, Donna,” he said. She was glad to see how much more confidence the boy had now, compared to the beginning of the year. He'd never have said something like that back in September, she was sure.

Still, that was a slight misconception on his part that she would have to rectify. “I wasn't asking for your permission, Nev. That sound seemed like the sort of thing that should be investigated, but I need you to keep an eye on blondie there, just to make sure he doesn't bolt and leave us behind. I'll be careful, and I won't go too far. Ok?”

She squeezed his hand when he reluctantly nodded.

“Hey!” Malfoy said when she moved off towards where the sound had come from. “Where are you going with our light?”

Donna rolled her eyes as she looked back.

“Investigating, remember? Like we agreed five seconds ago? Don't worry, Malfoy, I'm sure Neville will let you hold his hand if you're too afraid to be in the dark for five minutes. If you ask him nicely. Also, Lumos, mister poncy wizard, it's a thing.”

With that, she turned back and made her way through the underbrush as quietly as she could. By the time she was at the place where she judged the snap to have come from, she couldn't see Malfoy and Neville anymore, although they might still be able to see her lamp light.

There was every possibility that she'd misjudged, of course. A dark forest was not an ideal place to pinpoint the location of a snapping branch, but it had sounded like something big enough that she thought she might have seen it even if she didn't have the location exactly right.

There was nothing there, though. She held her lamp up high for a better view, but it was no use. Either the noise had been innocent, or whatever had made it had moved on while they were discussing things. 

She returned to the other two around the same time Hagrid found them. When they explained what had happened, Hagrid sighed. “P'raps we should change the groups a bit. Let's go back ter Harry an' Hermione.”

Donna looked at Hagrid. “You left them alone in the forest? What am I saying, of course you did. It's not like it's midnight in the middle of a dark forest or anything.”

“I left Fang with 'em, he found us,” Hagrid tried to defend himself.

“Yeah, cause Scooby-doo will make all the difference.”

It didn't take too long for them to reach the other two, luckily. Hagrid decided that Malfoy would stay with him to continue the search, and that Harry and Hermione would go the other way with Fang. Donna quickly volunteered to go with her friends. Mostly because she wanted someone with a modicum of sense to go with them, something which Hagrid, genial though he may be, sorely lacked.

That left Neville to go with Hagrid and Malfoy.

“Uhm... I'd rather go with the others, if you don't mind,” Neville answered when Hagrid said as much. “I mean, if it's ok with them. I might not be that much help, but I'd much rather be with my friends.”

“Oh!” Hagrid looked surprised by the request. “Er... sure, if that's what yeh want.”

Donna grinned and winked at Neville.

“Brilliant. We're going this way. Come along!”

As they walked further into the forest, Donna explained about the noise they'd heard, with her investigation turning up nothing. Harry replied in a low voice with an account of how they'd encountered centaurs, who were all very insistent that Mars was bright tonight.

Donna looked up at the sky when they passed a clearing, her eye going unerringly to Mars' position. “Huh, I guess it is. Not sure how that's supposed to relate to the future though.”

They'd been walking for about half an hour when they found it. Up ahead in a clearing, they could see a white shimmer. As they approached, they saw that it was the unicorn. Donna's eyes filled with tears and she ran forwards, ignoring her friends' pleas to be careful.

It was dead. Donna dropped to her knees next to the noble animal, put her hand on its neck and bowed her head.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered. “I'm so, so sorry.”

“Donna! Look out!” Hermione yelled. Donna looked back and jumped up. While she'd been kneeling next to the unicorn, a figure had made its way out of the bushes. It stopped some way from her, as if surprised there was anyone there. She couldn't make out its features, only that it was wearing a cloak and moving in a dizzyingly unnatural way.

She released her wand from its holster, although she wasn't quite sure what she could do.

“No,” she said. The figure reared up in surprise. She felt her friends join her, though she didn't take her eyes from the grotesque figure. “You can't have it. It was never yours to take.”

After the words left her mouth, several things happened at once, leading to a confused couple of minutes.

The creature – beast – thing reared up again, screeching at them. Then it started moving towards them impossibly quickly, with that unnatural gait. It looked like it had its knees on backwards.

At the same time, Harry started screaming, falling to his knees where he stood beside her, while clutching his head. Or not really his head so much as pressing two hands over his scar, although she did not realise that particular detail until later.

The only spell Donna could think of was one of the shield charms they'd been practicing, since jinxes just weren't going to cut it. She aimed it at Harry, as her friend was in no position to defend himself. Hermione did try to fire some kind of spell at the creature, Donna wasn't sure which one. At the same time, another shield slammed into place in front of all four of them.

Donna could only half-register that it seemed to have come from Neville, when a horse came sailing over their heads, brandishing a spear at the monster. 

This seemed to be too much opposition for the creature, as it changed course mid-charge and swept away into the forest.

The horse – no, it was a centaur, she could see now, which neatly explained how it could brandish a weapon – charged in pursuit for a moment or two, but then seemed to decide the four children were a more pressing concern, now that the thing had been driven off.

Their shields had already dissipated by the time the centaur reached them. Hermione was sitting on her knees, making Harry lean half against her thighs, half against her chest. At least he'd stopped screaming as soon as the monster had gone, but he was still covering his scar with one hand.

Donna was holding Neville's hand, trying to keep him from freaking out about the night's events. She watched as the centaur approached them. He had a palomino body, and she thought he was quite young-looking, although she might be wrong. It wasn't like she could really judge age on one of his race.

“Are you alright?” he asked, addressing all four of them at once. Neville didn't answer, but he did clutch her hand harder. She'd need to talk to him sooner rather than later, about what had happened and what it all meant. Actually, what they really needed was a psychologist, or whatever the wizarding world's equivalent of that was, but that was a concern for a different time.

By this time, Harry was at least looking a little better, his gaze clearing up with every moment and his hand lowering from his scar. Hermione was clutching his shoulders. Her whole body was shaking, but she was very careful not to hurt him at the same time.

Donna answered the centaur's question. “We're... ok, for now. I thank you for your help.”

The centaur inspected Harry and his livid-looking scar. “You had better go. The forest is not safe. I would help, but I cannot carry four.”

“Please, if you could get Harry to safety,” Hermione said with tears in her eyes. 

Donna nodded in agreement. “We can make our own way back, but something happened to him, he needs to see madam Pomfrey.”

The centaur nodded, lowering himself on his front legs so Harry could clamber on. Just as he righted himself, two more centaurs came bursting into the clearing.

“Firenze!” one of them bellowed. “What are you doing? You have a human on your back! Have you no shame? Are you a common mule?”

Firenze pawed the ground as he faced his... friends? Brethren? Donna had no idea how their society worked, and resolved to rectify that as soon as possible. 

“Four children, Bane. You see four children here, although only one is on my back. Do you want to know what I saw, brother? I looked for one moment away from the heavens and what they were telling me, and looked instead right in front of me. I saw four children who denied the unicorn-killer the blood it was seeking.

“Have we grown so feeble that we need human children to fight our battles for us? Are we so concerned with the heavens that we would allow our grounds to be disrespected? Yes, I will carry the Potter boy, of my own free will. If you have any honour, you will make sure the other children – who risked their lives for a creature of the forest – will come to no harm.”

Without waiting for an answer, Firenze wheeled around to get Harry to Hagrid. Bane glared at them and likewise galloped away, the other way. Only one centaur was left to look at them with sorrowful eyes. 

“I cannot carry you as Firenze has decided to do,” he said in a deep voice.

Donna bowed her head at him. “We would not ask it of you. We can walk.”

The centaur nodded once. “Then I will take you to the edge of the forest. I am Ronan.”

“I am Donna, and these are my friends Hermione and Neville.”

Ronan looked sharply at her. For a moment he glanced up at the stars, then back down at her.

“Your name, young one... it resonates, and yet something is missing. That is a riddle.” Ronan stroked his beard. “I will think on it, and look to the heavens. An answer will come, as it always does. Perhaps an answer to a question that was not asked, but such is the way of the heavens.”

Ronan started walking, and the three of them followed him. These centaurs were decidedly odd, but at least Donna felt safer now than she had with Fang, who'd broken loose again and had probably returned to Hagrid's hut.

When they reached the edge of the forest, Hagrid and Harry were waiting for them. Donna wondered where Malfoy had gone. She wouldn't want the git to have gotten lost in the forest.

“Where's Malfoy?” she asked Hagrid.

“I sent 'im on ter the castle.”

“He wouldn't stop complaining that we had to wait for you guys,” Harry added. “The concern was overwhelming.”

That answered that question, so she was free to dismiss him from her thoughts. That was all the mental capacity she had for him. She was more concerned with the state of her friends. 

“Right, let's get you lot ter Gryffindor,” Hagrid said.

Donna raised her eyebrows. “To the hospital wing, you mean.”

“But... it's still the middle of the night!” Harry protested. “Madam Pomfrey will be asleep!”

“Well, they should've thought of that before they sent us into the forbidden forest in the middle of the night to hunt a unicorn-killer, shouldn't they? Also, we're telling someone about what happened in that forest. You can choose, McGonagall or Dumbledore. Don't even think about keeping this to yourself.”

Donna dragged a reluctant Harry with her to go and knock on the Hospital Wing door. After a minute or so, a dishevelled-looking madam Pomfrey opened the door.

“Good heavens, what is going on here?”

Donna quickly explained about their detention, finding the dead unicorn, and the creature attacking them.

“Look, I'm fine!” Harry tried. “Please can't I just go to bed?”

“Harry, the way you reacted to that... thing... was not normal. It needs to be checked as quickly as possible. You won't be able to sleep until the adrenalin has worn off a bit anyway, so Sit. Your arse. Down!”

She said that last bit with what she considered her 'mum-voice', and Harry plonked down on a bed before he'd processed the words.

“Thank you, my dear,” Pomfrey said with a lopsided smile. She directed the others to adjacent beds and then bustled around for a while, casting diagnostic charms on all of them, although most of them on Harry.

Hermione and Neville said very little, which Donna attributed to the shocks they'd had this evening. Not long after they'd settled, their head of house arrived, her hair thrown into a hasty pony tail rather than the neat bun they were used to seeing on her. She had a tartan bathrobe thrown over her nightclothes, because of course she did.

“Poppy? What's this about students getting hurt?”

“Well, Minerva, maybe you should have a little talk with the Keeper of the Keys, and the types of detentions he organises. Did you know what he was going to have them do?”

Donna was glad Poppy Pomfrey was usually on the side of the students. The disapproval clear on the matron's face rivaled McGonagall's own at the best of times. 

“Not in detail, no,” the older woman answered the question. “He said he had a task he needed some help with. I'd trust Hagrid with my life.”

“It's not your life we're discussing, Minerva. Mister Rubeus Hagrid thought it appropriate to take five first-years into the forbidden forest, because – and this is the best part – something was killing unicorns. In what world is it a first-year's job to find a dead unicorn while its killer is still at large? And then. Then! He split them up into two groups. One adult, five children. I will let you do the maths. Now, you can go over everything that happened tomorrow, after they're well-rested, but I think you ought to know the most important information, which is why I flooed you out of your bed. Donna, would you explain the happenings after you found the unicorn, please?”

And so she did, for the third, and she hoped last, time that night. By the time she was done, McGonagall was sitting heavily in one of the hospital wing's chairs.

“I'm... I... I don't know what to say,” she said in her heavy Scottish burr. “He's never taken children into the forest, as far as I'm aware. Although I'll have to review previous detentions now, since it seems he doesn't feel the need to inform me about such things. And then for this to happen! It was certainly You-Know-Who?”

“That's what Firenze told me, professor,” Harry answered. 

McGonagall took a deep breath and nodded.

“Alright. I don't think You-Know-Who will try anything more tonight. I will leave you four in the capable hands of the matron. I will talk with you more tomorrow, and then I will have a little talk with our groundskeeper about appropriate detentions and with the headmaster about what you have told me. Rest now.”

She made her way back to the door, muttering all the while. “You-Know-Who! Here, in the forest! What is the world coming to?”

Madam Pomfrey watched her go before turning back to them.

“So, I checked all four of you. Physically, you're all just fine. Yes, that includes you, mister Potter. Whatever caused your headache tonight, I cannot find a trace of it, but it was almost certainly magical in nature. I could do a more invasive test, but for that I would need your guardian's permission. I'm keeping you all here for observation, but if there are no ill effects by tomorrow morning you will be free to go.”

The matron gave each of them a vial of Dreamless Sleep potion, to ensure that they'd get some real rest for the rest of the night. Donna resolved to ask her about psychologists or the like tomorrow. And to talk the night's events over with her friends, make sure they could process everything, even if she wasn't a licensed shrink.

With the Dreamless Sleep, it did not take long for the darkness to claim her. She was glad to find the potion did exactly what it said on the tin. She was not looking forward to the nightmares that were sure to come the following night.


	24. Chapter 23 - Conversations

Donna awoke slowly the following morning. There was a moment of disorientation before she opened her eyes, where she realised she was not sleeping in her own bed. The mattress was just a tiny bit too hard, the pillow just a little too soft. Still, it was good that it was an actual bed. She'd slept in worse places.

Then she woke up fully and knew she was lying in a bed in the hospital wing, after a detention gone just a bit wrong. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she sat up and looked around. Harry and Neville were still sleeping, but Hermione was already awake, leaning against her propped-up pillow.

“Hi,” she said softly when she noticed her friend looking. Donna was glad to see she wasn't shaking anymore.

“Morning,” she answered. “How are you feeling?”

“I'm... I don't know. I'm not hurt or anything, but in my head I keep replaying that moment. I can't switch it off. I was so scared, Donna! Am I really a Gryffindor?”

Donna got up off her bed and padded over to Hermione's to give her friend a hug.

“Hermione, you were standing in a dark forest in the middle of the night, staring at a monster straight out of a horror movie. And what was your first reaction? Instead of screaming and running away, which still would not have said anything about your Gryffindorish qualities, you ran up to it to help me. You, not a Gryffindor? The three of you are the Gryffindoriest Gryffindors I know. Did you think I wasn't scared out there?”

“You didn't look it.”

“I was terrified, Hermione. But if travelling with the Doctor has taught me anything, it's that there will always be monsters, but the only way they can succeed is if good people do nothing. How does the saying go again? Courage is not the absence of fear, it's doing the right thing in spite of the fear. Something like that.”

Hermione smiled weakly. “I guess. Doesn't feel like it though.”

Donna squeezed her hand. “Give it time. And you know you can always come talk to me if you need it.”

“Thanks, Donna.”

They talked a bit more, until the boys woke up and they were discharged. Before they left, Donna asked madam Pomfrey about shrinks. As it turned out, there was a group of people called Mind Healers, but meeting with them during the school year was not possible. Because nothing traumatic could ever happen in a school, of course. The troll from Halloween and now the creature who might be Voldemort begged to differ.

The matron did give her some names to contact during the holidays, so that was something, she guessed. Now to convince the others that they should make use of their services. 

During breakfast they received a summons from McGonagall to join her in her office at ten. That gave them an hour in the common room to assure the other first-years that they really were ok, despite spending the night in the hospital wing. They didn't mention Voldemort's name, as Donna thought not all of them were ready to hear the Dark Wizard might make a comeback. She did hint to some people that they should come and find her after her appointment with McGonagall, if they were really sure they wanted the full truth. She felt that anyone who was determined to find out the truth should be allowed to know.

The biggest problem that she could see was, if that really was Voldemort they'd seen, and he'd held on for 10 years, he would be back at some point – if not now, then soon. So, Donna reasoned, the sooner people knew the possibility was there, the better they could prepare. Not that many would, of course. Humans were humans, and many of them would deny the possibility of a return until he was knocking down their doors, but still. Better to try than keep quiet.

Once most of the questions had died down and they'd managed to answer most of the concerns, they started out towards McGonagall's office. Donna let Harry and Hermione take the lead, and walked beside Neville herself. She hadn't heard him say much since volunteering to go with them last night, and she was wondering if he regretted the decision.

She'd also noticed him studying his wand with a thoughtful expression on his face. She linked her arm through his – all her friends were quite used to her physical displays of affection by now.

“How are you holding up?” she asked quietly.

“Something changed last night,” he said after a moment of silence. She looked at him, but didn't press for an elaboration. Yes, something changed, but she got the feeling he was not talking about Voldemort.

“It's my wand. You know how I've been having problems with charms and everything? All the wand-based classes? What am I saying, of course you do, you've been there for me since the beginning. Those shield charms we've been practicing, they were always a little weak for me, right, just a little smaller than the rest of you, no matter how carefully I pronounced my spells and moved my wand?”

“Yeah. You described it as having to cast through a wall or something once, I think?”

“Through something, anyway. Well, it's gone.”

“Gone?”

“The wall, barrier, whatever. It's gone. Look.”

And Neville conjured a shield, as solid as any they'd managed during their study sessions.

At her squee, Harry and Hermione turned around just in time to see her give Neville a tackle-hug.

“That's amazing, Nev! Im so proud of you! And that happened last night, you say? I wonder why. We could maybe ask that Ollivander creep about it if we're in Diagon Alley this summer? You did get your wand there, right?”

“Oh! No, I never told you? I have my dad's wand. My gran gave it to me, as a way to honour him.”

By this time, they'd reached McGonagall's office, with some minutes to spare.

“Ollivander told me the wand chooses the wizard,” Harry said. He'd got the gist of what they were talking about. “Not sure how true that is, but it did take a while for me to find a wand.”

“I wouldn't trust that Ollivander as far as I could throw him,” Donna replied, “too creepy by half. But I do believe he knows his business. I still say he's the best person to ask.”

“There's very little information available in the library about wandlore,” Hermione agreed. “I looked.”

Donna smiled fondly at her friend, but the door opening prevented an answer. As they filed into McGonagall's office, Donna was glad she'd at least been able to talk to two of her friends already. They were a lot more responsive now than they'd been during the night. 

Harry seemed to have bounced back quite quickly, even though he'd been the worst off with his scar hurting like that. That didn't mean she wasn't going to talk to him, though. She knew how little he liked to bother other people, thanks to his relative's tender care, but she was going to have him talk through his feelings if she had to tie him down to do it.

After they'd explained in more detail the exact events of the night, McGonagall had promised it would be investigated. She did ask that they not reveal Voldemort's presence to their classmates, so as not to 'needlessly' worry them.

Well, that answered that question. Make sure anyone she told was trustworthy, and that McGonagall didn't hear about it. Got it.

When they left, Donna took up the conversation like nothing had happened.

“So, just to be sure, you know what's going to happen now, right?”

“What do you mean?” Neville asked curiously.

“If your spell work starts to improve in class.”

“What's going to happen?”

“Absolutely nothing. You have a reputation for being a near squib. Everyone is going to keep seeing you like that, unless you do something spectacular to show them you're really not. Thing is, being underestimated has its advantages. I'd understand if you really wanted to show the Malfoys of this world how wrong they are about you, but you know you have a choice in what you show people.”

“Donna!” Hermione sounded scandalised. “You're not suggesting he deliberately does badly in class, are you?”

“What? Of course not, Hermione, weren't you listening? I'm suggesting he learn as much as he can from the classes, which is what they are for, while not drawing attention to the fact that he's really much better than they give him credit for. In any case, Nev, whichever way you go about it, being called a squib is going to lose all its power now. You know better.”

It was getting on towards evening by the time she managed to get Harry alone. They were sitting in the common room, close to the fire. He glanced at her when she bumped her shoulder against his. “Next on the list, am I?” he asked with a slight smile.

She laughed. “Noticed that, did you?”

“I do that sometimes. Not often, I'll admit. Just sometimes.”

“Seriously though. Are you ok? That was quite a scare you gave us last night.”

“I'm fine, Donna.”

“Uh-huh. I know your particular brand of fine by now. The Doctor was very often fine. So was I, come to think of it. You were scared, you were hurt... it's ok to be not fine for a while, Harry. Please talk to me.”

Harry sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. “Well, ok. I keep thinking about Voldemort,” he said eventually. He paused, as if waiting for her to flinch. When she didn't, he shot her a grateful look.

“I feel like he could come out and get me any time, finish the job. I'm not even sure how much I'll be able to concentrate on the exams, feeling like this.”

“An understandable fear. He was targeting you at the time of his disappearance, so it'd make sense for him to want to continue where he left off. There are, however, some things to take into consideration. One, if he had the opportunity to do so, why didn't he come after you in the ten years you lived in the mundane world? And second, at the moment he's so weak that he needs the unicorn blood just to survive, and we didn't let him have that. I don't think he's in any shape right now to do anything but hold on to life, however he's been doing that up to now. My best guess is he's waiting for something to happen, probably to do with the Philosopher's Stone, and won't make a move until then. So I suggest we slay those exams, and just keep our ears and eyes peeled for any changes, ok?”

Harry nodded as he sighed again.

“Ok. Thanks, Donna.”

“Anytime. And you can always talk to me if the feeling gets too much, ok? One conversation isn't magically going to solve everything.”

The following day, Donna was accosted several times by people who had picked up on the omissions in her account the day before. Anyone who did go to the trouble of asking her again received an honest reply from her, but only if they were really sure and promised to not let on to McGonagall they knew as much as they did. 

By the end of the day, she had given Fred and George Weasley, Seamus Finnegan, Dean Thomas, and Susan and Hannah the little nugget of information, amongst others. They took it rather well, all things considered. She did reassure them that Voldemort was very weak at the moment, but they should know that he was not nearly as dead as the wizarding world liked to pretend, and so the possibility existed that at some point in the future he'd return to full strength. They should prepare for that eventuality.


	25. Chapter 24 - Going after the Stone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gut feelings are the worst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like Donna said... the twins sort of invited themselves as I was writing, so... *shrug*

In the days leading up to their exams, they kept returning to Fluffy's room. Since that first time they'd accidentally barged into his room, the Cerberus had taken quite a liking to them. Well, to Donna to be exact, and he tolerated the others for the sake of her scratches. So long as the guard-dog was there, and Dumbledore was in the castle, they were satisfied that Voldemort or his servant had not yet retrieved the Stone.

Harry confided to Donna that he kept having nightmares and waking up, and his scar hurt worse than it had ever done. He'd even been to see madam Pomfrey about his recurring headache – without prompting, to boot! She'd given him a soothing salve for the inflamed-looking skin, which helped to ease the pain a little, but it never disappeared completely.

At least talking about his fears with his friends helped, in that he didn't keep expecting Voldemort to jump from behind every corner.

Then the exams really were upon them, and they had little time for anything other than a quick check on Fluffy and then back to studying.

Donne was fairly confident she'd done well, though. Her pineapple had performed an adequate jig, and she'd got extra credit for adding an embellishment to the dance (inspired by the traditional mating dance of the Magori people of the Nether Plains on Teldoran, not that she told Flitwick that). Her snuffbox in Transfiguration was appropriately whisker-free and decorated with swirling circles within circles that she likewise did not mention the origin of. 

Her revenge on Snape was to perform every step of the brewing process meticulously, down to cutting the ginger root into exact cubes, even when he was breathing down her neck. The more he glared at her, the more meticulous she became. If he docked points for her being a Gryffindor, well... these first-year exams weren't the end of the world. As she understood the wizarding world, potential employers looked at your OWL and NEWT scores, not at what might've happened first year. And the main thing was that she did know how to make the potions, not what her teacher might think of her.

The written portion of the exams went alright too, she felt. Sure, she wouldn't beat Hermione any time soon, but who would? And where she wasn't sure of the answer, she usually managed to write something tangentially related, hopefully good for a couple of points even if she did not get full marks. 

The moment she finished her last exam, History of Magic, she put down her quill with a satisfied sigh. They were done for the year. No more exams until this time next year.

The four friends wandered towards the lake, with the same goal in mind as most of the school – relaxing for the coming week, until they received their exam results and it was time to go home.

Hermione was happily chatting away about her exam, trying to compare notes with what the others had answered. Donna was lying down, enjoying the sunshine. She poked Hermione's leg with a finger.

“'Mione, you're adorable, but can you please give it a rest for a little while? You can pick my brain all you want tomorrow after I've had some decent rest, but for today I've forgotten all my answers.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, but she did quiet down a little. Harry was the only one in their group who remained standing, looking at the castle with a troubled look. Donna looked at him with concern.

“Are you ok, Harry?” she asked. “Is it that feeling again?”

Harry looked at her for a moment, before returning to his scrutiny of the castle.

“Yes? No? I don't know, I have this unsettled feeling, but it's not like last time. I can feel it in my bones though... something's about to happen.”

Donna got up and came to stand next to him, likewise looking at Hogwarts. She knew better than to just dismiss a gut feeling like that.

“Ok, well, it's not the exams, those are over. The only other thing we've had on our minds is the Stone, but...”

Before she could continue, a movement just over Hogwarts drew her gaze. At first she thought it was an owl, but it was a lot larger than the bird, even though it did have wings. In fact, it was larger than any type of bird she knew. 

Harry had also seen it, judging by the way he'd stiffened next to her. “Is that... the headmaster?” he asked hesitantly. 

Donna hadn't even noticed, too intent on trying to figure out what kind of animal she was seeing, but Harry was right. On its back she could see a splash of a colour that would only be worn by Dumbledore. 

It was a horse, she decided when the animal flew just a little bit closer to their location before rising higher and disappearing. She vaguely remembered seeing winged horses at the beginning of the year, though she hadn't stopped to think about them since. The question was, why was the headmaster sitting on one of them, and where was he going?

“Was he... sitting on air?” Harry asked.

Ok, so... that was not the question she was expecting. At least that one she could answer. “No, he was sitting on a winged horse, one of those skeletal horses that draw the carriages.”

Hermione, who had joined them by now, glanced at her.

“Those carriages aren't drawn by anything, they move by magic.”

“What? No, honestly, there are horses. Look, that's not the important issue here. We do remember what we said wouldn't happen so long as Dumbledore was at Hogwarts, right? Well, his manner of departure doesn't assure me he plans to be back within the hour. I'd say our thief is going to use his absence to try for the Stone, and probably sooner rather than later. We should go tell McGonagall.”

“Professor McGonagall, Donna,” Hermione corrected, but it was clear her heart was not in it.

Together they made their way to McGonagall's office, where they knocked on her door. When no answer came, they wondered what to do. She could be anywhere. They'd been hoping she'd be correcting exams, but then she might be doing that in the staff room. Perhaps they could look there next.

However, they did not get a chance to go that far, because the woman herself came up to meet them, her arms full of books. 

“What are the four of you doing inside?” she asked.

“Looking for you, professor,” Harry replied. “Is it true that professor Dumbledore left a while ago?”

“The headmaster? Yes, he received a summons from the Ministry. Why do you ask?”

“We think someone is going to try and steal the Philosopher's Stone.”

“The Stone?” McGonagall repeated. “How do you know about that? Look, the Stone is well protected. Nobody will be able to steal it. Please do not worry about it, we are doing all things necessary to ensure its safety. I suggest you go outside and enjoy the sunshine.”

McGonagall brushed passed them and into her office, closing the door behind her. She looked stressed, but still… that was it? Did... she actually know what Gryffindors were like? How was she head of this house? When children came to you with a concern, especially after they'd already undergone a traumatic event, you at least listened to them, and you made damn sure your assurances took hold. You did not send them outside with a pat on the head and leave the concern to fester! Was this the same woman who'd shown such concern after their detention? She might be a fine teacher, but the psychological side of dealing with children was not her strong suit.

Once outside, Harry started pacing. “We need to find out what's happening. Maybe we could go wait outside Fluffy's door? And then one of us should keep an eye on the staff room, so we know when Snape or Quirrell make their move.”

Donna shook her head. “Too much chance of getting caught, and for all we know the thief is not even in the staff room. What we need,” she said as she spotted two identical boys wander past, “is outside help. One moment!”

She quickly went up to the twins and linked her arms with theirs. They looked up when they felt her touch, but they let themselves be dragged to a more private spot easily enough.

“Can we help you, milady?” one of them asked. She labelled him Fred in her mind, if only to keep her sanity intact. She supposed it might be a bit callous, but if they wanted her to keep them straight, they shouldn't go out of their way to look as identical as possible. 

“Yeah, I have a question. I'm sure the two of you didn't get as far in the pranking business as you did without some means of knowing where the teachers are. So, spill. We need to know what Snape and Quirrell are up to.”

George let out a low whistle. “Snape and Quirrell? What might you need them for when classes are done for the year?”

“It's got to do with the business in the forest,” Donna said. It was the subtlest way she could think of to remind the twins that she'd told them the truth about Voldemort without actually coming out and saying it.

“Well, if you put it that way,” Fred said.

“You understand we cannot just divulge our knowledge willy-nilly,” George continued. Donna was glad they were at least using full sentences, more or less. It was better than interrupting each other every few words, like they sometimes did.

“So, if you would excuse us one moment, fair lady, we will have the requested information for you in a jiffy.”

The two removed themselves a small way, but she could still see the top of one red head on the other side of some bushes. So, whatever it was that told them of teachers' locations was small, and they carried it with them. Good to know.

A moment later they were back.

“Snape is in the staff room,” Fred reported, “but Quirrell seems to be on the third-floor corridor. Do we want to know what he's doing in a room with a three-headed dog?”

“Hah! I knew it was him! Also, why am I not surprised the two of you know about Fluffy?”

“... Fluffy? Really?”

Donna nodded. “That was my reaction too, when I heard his name.”

“So, what gives? Why do you need to know about Snape or Quirrell? We saw... Fluffy's... teeth and decided we were better off elsewhere.”

Donna considered them for a moment.

“Can we trust you?” she asked.

“You already did, asking us about Snape and Quirrell,” George pointed out.

“There is that. Alright, so here's the deal. We discovered that Fluffy is guarding the Philosopher's Stone.”

“The one that's supposed to make you immortal?” Fred asked.

“That's the one. We also found out either Snape or Quirrell are trying to steal it, probably for Voldemort.” She ignored their flinch. “We just didn't know which one. Now Dumbledore has gone to the Ministry and according to what you told me, Quirrell is the guilty party. So, we're going to stop him.”

“Shouldn't you, you know, tell a teacher?”

“We tried, she wouldn't listen. Really, if she's surprised Gryffindors then take matters into their own hands, I don't see what she's doing as head of Gryffindor.”

Fred and George looked at each other, then at her. “Ok, in that case we're going with you.”

“You're what now?”

Fred answered. “Look, Harry isn't the only one who lost family in the last war. Our uncles, Fabian and Gideon, fought against You-Know-Who, and paid for it with their lives.”

George continued. “If he does come back, there's no way we're joining his side, so we'll be targets too. You know us Weasleys, family of blood traitors and all. Perhaps not his first targets, but eventually...”

“So we might as well help in delaying his return a while longer.”

Donna considered the two of them for a long moment. They might act like the class clowns, but they could show a serious side when they felt it was called for. Also, she and her friends didn't know at all what might lie beyond Fluffy, so any extra help would be welcome.

“Ok, so long as the others agree, you're welcome. Come on.”

Together they made their way back to where her friends were waiting. Hermione and Neville were sitting down, but Harry was pacing and biting his thumb. He quickly turned around when he saw Hermione look up.

“I'm back!” Donna said cheerfully. “And I brought backup!”

The other three looked at the twins questioningly. “Are you sure?” Harry asked hesitantly.

She wasn't sure who he was addressing, the Weasleys or herself, but she answered nevertheless. “Yeah. They said Quirrell was with Fluffy – told you we couldn't trust him. They know about what we saw in the forest, and they want to help, so I say let them.”

“Donna! Didn't professor McGonagall specifically say not to mention what we saw to our classmates?”

Donna shrugged, unimpressed. “Yeah, so? She also sent us packing without even hearing us out. Sorry not sorry, I'm keeping my own council. I didn't blab about it to everyone and their dog, but the people who sought me out? Yeah, they're welcome to the information. It's not a secret as far as I'm concerned.”

Neville raised his hand. “I'm ok with more people,” he said, “just don't invite the whole school maybe.”

Donna chuckled. “Nooo, they sort of just invited themselves. Harry, Hermione?”

Harry waved his hand. “Fine, if it means we can just get started. You say Quirrell is already there?” he asked George, who nodded.

“Ok. I'd expected him to make his move tonight, don't know why I thought that.”

“You're still too attached to the idea that nighttime is the best time for sneaking around,” Donna answered his rhetorical question. 

Harry just rolled his eyes. “I'm gonna go get my cloak, it might come in handy. Anything else we need?”

Donna nodded. “Three steaks, I should think. I know he's used to me, but no harm in bribing Fluffy.”

“What do you mean, he's used to you?” Fred asked. 

This time, Donna was the one to roll her eyes. “Ask Harry, he likes telling this story. Everyone, meet in front of the third-floor corridor in a quarter of an hour. Don't get caught.”


	26. Chapter 25 - The Dungeon Crawl

In short order, Donna had collected three plates full of meat, courtesy of Niffy the house-elf, one of the kitchen elves. Harry had his Invisibility cloak, and six faces were looking at the door with trepidation.

“Fred, George, I think it's best if you wait a moment. I'll call you when it's safe to enter.”

They raised their eyebrows, but didn't comment.

When she entered, she could see a harp standing silently in one corner. Fluffy himself was sniffing around the open trapdoor with a distressed look on his three faces.

“Hey buddy!” she said, advancing with her offering. “What have you got there?”

Vaguely, she could hear either Fred or George ask “what is she doing?” incredulously, but she kept her focus on the cerberus. All three heads looked up at the sound of her voice. One head's tongue lolled out, and his heavy tail thumped against the floor.

“Yes, I'm happy to see you too. Here, I brought you something.”

She put the three steaks on the floor, spaced far enough apart that all three heads could eat peacefully. However, Fluffy ignored them to return to his investigation of the trapdoor. Donna approached it too, and looked down, but all she could see was darkness. 

“Did someone go down there, Fluffy?”

One head let out a small whoof in confirmation. Really, she thought, not for the first time, who in their right mind locked up an intelligent animal like Fluffy for months on end? Well, one way or another his captivity was reaching an end. 

“I brought some friends along. We want to go after the intruder and stop him. Will you let us pass?”

A second head whoofed, and then Fluffy picked up all three steaks from their plates and dragged them to a corner, leaving the trapdoor wide open.

“You can come in now, guys,” she yelled at the door.

Five nervous children filed in. Fluffy growled a little, but didn't move from his corner. Donna ignored the wide eyes Fred and George were showing. Harry, Hermione and Neville were used to the way she treated the enormous dog, but of course the twins had never witnessed that before. 

“I think we have to jump down there,” she said. The others looked down and agreed there didn't seem to be another way. Harry was the first to jump, followed by Fred and George. Once Neville and Hermione had jumped, she was the only one left. She scratched Fluffy behind one ear and smiled.

“Thanks, Fluffster. I'll let you know if we caught him.”

And then she jumped into the darkness after her friends.

She landed on some kind of soft plant just in time to hear Harry yell, “It's got my leg!”

Without waiting to hear what, exactly, had a hold of Harry, Donna was already moving, aiming for the wall where she could see a bit of floor not covered by vines. Along the way she met Neville, who was trying to tug his wand-hand free of the plant's moving tendrils. A neat cutting curse later, and she was dragging him with her to the relative safety of the wall. 

Once there, they turned around, but it was too dark to see what was happening, they could only hear the sounds of a struggle in the darkness. 

“I'll make a light, you see what you can do about that plant,” she told Neville.

With a flick of her wand, she sent up a modified lumos – one that didn't light up the tip of her wand, but instead created a ball of light that hovered over their heads, leaving her wand free for more spells if necessary. It was something she'd looked up after the detention, because she'd thought there must be a magical equivalent to a lamp that could leave your hands free.

By the light of her charm, they could see that Harry, Fred and George had been trapped in the middle of the plant, more or less where they'd fallen. The plant must have caught them unawares. Hermione was much closer to their location, but a vine had snagged her ankle, and she'd tripped.

Neville was muttering something beside her, until he finally looked up. “It's Devil's Snare! We need to light a fire!”

“Does anybody know a fire charm?” she yelled at her trapped friends.

“Incendio!” George yelled back. “Just point!”

Donna nodded and looked at Neville. “Together.”

Neville nodded too, and together they started fires in different spots, first around Hermione, and then when she was loose and able to help them they concentrated on Harry and the twins. Wherever they pointed, tendrils writhed and withdrew from the flames, leaving the boys able to pull themselves free. 

Soon everyone was standing to one side of the Devil's Snare, panting a little. Neville exhaled noisily. “I like plants,” he said shakily, “but not when they're trying to kill me.”

They looked around and saw there was really only one way forward, along a stone passageway.

“Come on,” Harry said, and started walking. Donna followed, her little light still bobbing above her head. She was glad of it, the passageway was dark enough that the light was welcome, even if up ahead they could see another light shining, and they could hear a rustling as of wings.

The corridor opened up into a brightly lit chamber, filled with tiny little birds. The six of them proceeded into the room, cautiously and with their wands raised and ready for a shield spell should the birds attack. 

However, nothing happened, and they reached the door on the opposite side of the room without a hitch. While the others tried to open the door with either force or magic (neither of which worked), Donna looked at the birds. There was something off about them, and it took her a moment to realise what it was. 

The room they were in had a ceiling high enough that she could hardly see it, and from about a foot above her head all the way up to the top, it was filled with wings – and yet out of all of these birds, not a single one was sitting down, resting its wings.

George came up beside her, to see what she was looking at. “I don't think they're really birds,” she told him, squinting her eyes.

Then she gasped as her view shifted, like a low-level perception filter had suddenly lifted.

“They're keys!” she said excitedly. One by one the others looked up and realised what exactly they were seeing. Not birds, like their brain had convinced them when they first entered, but winged keys, hundreds of them, with wings in all kinds of colours.

“I think we have to catch the one that fits in that lock,” Harry said.

“I'd say so,” Fred answered. “Look, brooms!”

There were indeed three brooms standing neatly in a row against the wall. Donna narrowed her eyes at them suspiciously, which of course the brooms ignored.

“Three brooms,” Hermione said. “I think we all know who's going up there.”

“Of course!” George said with a wicked grin. “It'll be you, Neville and Donna, right?”

Even as they laughed, Neville shuddered and shook his head. “No thanks,” he said, “not if I can help it.”

Donna herself wouldn't have minded going up on a broom, if Fred and George hadn't been there. They were, though, and it made sense to let the Quidditch players use the brooms.

After some manoeuvring, Harry managed to snag an ornate silver key with a bent wing. They used it to open the door, after which it flew off, looking battered and decidedly sorry for itself. 

“Should we bring the brooms?” Donna asked, but when they tried, all three jumped out of their hands and arranged themselves in the same neat row as they'd found them. 

She shrugged and smiled. “Worth a shot.”

They entered the next room, as brilliantly lit as the previous one. Donna dismissed her little light – she could always summon it again if she needed it.

A chessboard stretched across the room, with larger-than-life figures standing on it like silent sentinels. They gave the room an eerie feeling.

“I guess we have to... play our way across?” Hermione asked hesitantly.

“Only one way to find out,” Donna answered. When she tried to walk along the side of the board, she walked headfirst into an invisible wall, and when she tried to walk over the board, wherever she tried to get past the pawns, they blocked her path. She returned to her friends.

“Yep,” she said, popping the p. “Anyone good at chess?”

“We're not bad,” Fred answered. “Not as good as our little brother, mind, but good enough.”

He approached a knight and put a hand on the horse's neck. The knight came to life, turning its head to look down at the boy.

“Do we join you in order to play?” he asked. The knight inclined its head. “Is one player enough?” Again, the statue nodded.

“Makes sense,” Donna said. “They wouldn't have expected a group of people to come down here. Although that does beg the question – why were there three brooms in the other room?”

George tried to send the black king away so that he could take its place, but the figure shook its head and refused to move.

“Maybe you have to take a piece that at least runs a risk,” Hermione suggested.

After some conferring, they decided that Fred and George would take the place of the knights. From the vantage point of the horse, they had a better view of the playing field, and together they played better than alone.

The stakes considerably heightened the first time a pawn was captured. It was brutally attacked and then dragged to the side of the playing field, lying apparently unconscious. Donna didn't think she'd ever look at wizard chess – or normal chess for that matter – quite in the same manner. 

Fred and George had to protect not only the king, but also their own pieces, if they didn't want to risk injury. It was a distinct disadvantage in the game.

And yet, despite the tension while they waited, something felt off to Donna.

“I don't like this,” she told her friends. “It's too easy.”

Neville looked at her incredulously. “Too easy? Donna, everything we've seen up to now is lethal!”

“Yes!” she agreed. “Lethal! With a handy solution nearby just waiting for the intrepid thief! Think about it. Fluffy? Easy, even if I hadn't gained his trust. Play him some music and hey presto! Instant access to the trapdoor. Flying keys? Here, have some helpful brooms. Deadly plant? Eh, just burn it, it'll go away. These aren't traps designed to stop a thief... this is a dungeon crawl. Look how relatively little trouble we've had getting here, and we first and third years. According to the list of professors Hagrid gave us, there are only a couple of traps left. Do you really think a grown-up wizard would have any trouble getting past all these, when it was already so easy for us?”

“You have a point,” Hermione said, “but then what does that mean?”

“Hard to say. Either we get to the last room and Quirrell is long gone, or all this is only meant as bait, not as a way to stop him, and the last room will have him trapped somehow. In that case we'll have to be very careful. If he is trapped, he might do something desperate if he sees us.”

Eventually the twins reached a point in the game where they could win, but only if they sacrificed one of the knights. 

The queen moved – Fred was knocked off his horse – she dragged him to the side. George's voice sounded thick, but he managed to finish the game. The white king threw down his crown, and the four of them surged onto the board and around the remaining pieces. Donna veered aside to where Fred was lying. He had a nasty head wound, but he was breathing.

She looked up at George. “He'll be alright. I suggest you come with us to see how far Quirrell is, and then return here to bring him to Pomfrey. You can use one of the brooms in the other room. Tell her it's Quirrell and we'll need Dumbledore. She'll know what to do.”

George nodded, and together they went after the others down the corridor. 

The next room they came to contained one very large, very smelly and very unconscious troll. “I think we found Quirrell's room,” Neville said. To his credit, he only had a very slight tremor in his voice. He'd come a long way from the timid little boy from the beginning of the year.

“So just Snape's left, then,” Harry said. “Let's get out of this one, I can't breathe!”

The last room contained nothing that moved, but when George had stepped through the doorway, a fire sprang up on either side. Magical fire, obviously, since the way back was burning purple and the way forward was burning black. It made Donna queasy to watch the unnatural colours.

They saw a table with a row of differently sized bottles on top. There was also a parchment lying on the table. Hermione picked it up and read it aloud. It turned out to be a logic puzzle, to find out which bottle they had to drink from to proceed. Hermione smiled. 

“Brilliant! A lot of the greatest wizards haven't got an ounce of logic, they'd be stuck here forever.”

Donna started laughing. “The greatest wizards? Try any average wizard. These are the people who play death games on wooden sticks up in the air. Logic takes one look at them and runs screaming the other way – no offense,” she said aside to Neville and George, both pureblood wizards.

“You know,” George said, “I'd be offended, except it's true.”

Hermione read the puzzle again and pointed at several bottles while muttering to herself, before nodding decisively. “The smallest bottle goes forward,” she said, “and the one at the end there goes back.”

Harry picked up the small bottle and looked at it dubiously. “There's only enough here for one of us. I think I have to go on alone.”

Donna snorted. “Leash the Gryffindor, Harry. You don't have to martyr yourself just yet. Someone's been through already, haven't they? And yet that bottle is full again. Looks like these rooms magically reset, otherwise we'd have passed a lot of sprung traps. So, either you go through and the bottle will fill itself up, or worst case scenario we have to leave the room to force the reset, and then enter again. Either way, you wear that lovely cloak of yours, young man, and you don't alert Quirrell you're there. If he's trapped, just keep an eye on him to make sure he can't escape, but don't show yourself if you can help it. You are not alone, so you're not going to solve this alone, ok?”

Harry nodded and took his cloak from the pocket he'd stuffed it into. He wrapped it around his shoulders, leaving his head to float eerily mid-air. Then a hand appeared from between the folds to grab the little bottle and drain it. He drew the cloak over his head and disappeared completely.

George let out a long, low whistle. “We were wondering what kind of cloak young Harrikins had gone to get. I wouldn't have guessed 'invisibility' in a million years. A new one, judging by how completely it works. Did he buy it, and why? And can we borrow it sometimes?”

Donna looked at the redhead. “It was his father's cloak. Take up the borrowing with Harry, but only for a very good reason. And no,” she interrupted him when he opened his mouth, “pranking is not a good reason.”

“Damn. His father's, though, you say? That is one hell of a cloak, if it still works like that after such a long time. Most invisibility cloaks deteriorate after a decade or so.”

Neville was looking at the bottle Harry had drained. “It hasn't refilled,” he reported.

“Ok, going out it is. George, you'll take care of your brother and give Pomfrey the message?”

George nodded and took a gulp from the bottle Hermione gave him. With one last look backward he disappeared through the purple flames and made his way back to the chess room and his brother.


	27. Chapter 26 - Voldemort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Facing Quirrelmort

One after another, Neville, Hermione and Donna left the potion room. Once they were all through, the flames died down. So far so good.

Donna looked at her friends. “I'll go next. If Quirrell is still there, the plan is to keep him there until help arrives, preferably without his being any the wiser. Give me a minute before you follow me so I can drink the other potion.” She briefly hugged both of them, wishing she'd thought to do that with Harry too. “Good luck.”

As soon as she entered the puzzle room again, the oddly coloured fires started burning again. Hoping she wasn't making a mistake taking the different potions in such short succession, she reached for the smallest bottle and checked it.

It was full.

Allowing herself one moment of relief that she'd guessed correctly, she unstoppered it and drank. Then she turned to the black fire and stepped through, the icy sensation feeling quite similar to the previous time. She wondered if maybe the two potions were the same, but that would be a level of humour she didn't think Snape was capable of.

On the other side of the flames, there was a large circular room, with pillars all around and a central open area. Right in the middle of the open space, with Quirrell standing in front of it, there was that damned mirror Harry had shown her at Christmas.

Harry himself had manoeuvred himself so that the cloak covered everything that Quirrell might see, but he was holding it open towards the door. She managed to slip underneath without their professor spotting her.

Thinking four people would be a snug fit, not to mention impossible to move without making noise, she brought her mouth close to Harry's ear.

“Bring me to a pillar,” she whispered with the least amount of air possible, so that the sound would not carry any further than necessary. Quirrell didn't look up, so he hadn't heard her. Good.

Harry nodded once, and together they moved a bit to the right, as quickly and quietly as they could. The pillar was plenty broad enough that she could hide behind it, leaving Harry free to wait for Hermione. Donna noticed you couldn't see the black fire from this side of the door, which was... odd. Maybe the fire wasn't real, but an illusion? Again, she didn't think Snape would play a prank like that, not when he was apparently serious about protecting the Stone, but what did she know?

When Hermione came through the fire, she and Harry repeated the same little dance so she could hide behind the next pillar, and then Neville went over to the pillar on the left of the doorway. After that, it became hard to say where Harry was, since he hadn't taken off his cloak. 

Quirrell still hadn't looked towards the door, instead prowling around the mirror.

“Blasted mirror,” he was saying, “how does it work? I'm sure it's the key to finding the Stone, but all I can see is myself using it to restore your body, Master.”

Ok, so he didn't have the Stone yet. Then it was just a matter of keeping an eye on him, and only intervening if he got close to finding it. If they had any kind of luck, nothing would happen until Dumbledore or another teacher came to their aid, depending on who George could find. 

Of course, that thought jinxed it. She'd hardly thought it or a high-pitched voice sounded, coming from near Quirrell, although there was nobody there. Or nobody visible, at least.

“There is somebody in the room...” it said.

Donna's heart skipped a beat. If they were discovered... they didn't have enough magical knowledge between them to defeat a grown wizard, one who was a lot more competent than he'd let himself appear. If there was indeed a second wizard present, they stood a snowflake's chance in hell.

She needed to keep him talking. Maybe if she could delay long enough, he wouldn't realise there were actually four people here. She was the DoctorDonna, she was good at talking!

Just as she was about to give up her position, she felt someone squeeze her hand. The next thing she knew, she was standing with the Invisibility cloak in her hands, and Harry was approaching Quirrell. Curses! Of course, he didn't know about the talking, did he. She'd told him about the DoctorDonna, but other than the Fluffy incident, he hadn't actually seen that side of her in action.

“Harry Potter,” Quirrell smiled. Donna saw he even stood straighter than he'd ever done in class. “I might have known you'd be here. You are too curious for your own good.”

Without further preamble, he snapped his fingers. The next moment, Harry was tightly bound with magical ropes. Donna gestured to Neville and Hermione to stay where they were. Harry had obviously had the same thought as her, and she didn't want to make the gesture worthless. She could turn this to their advantage. 

She wrapped the cloak around herself. If any opportunity to help Harry presented itself, she would be ready to grab it.

“I saw you and Snape, in the forest,” Harry said desperately. Good, focus his attention away from the mirror. She listened to Quirrell's reply with half an ear, but she saw her chance. While he was distracted, she quickly went to stand in front of the mirror. She didn't particularly want to see the DoctorDonna being all happy with the Doctor in the TARDIS, but getting the Stone away from Quirrell was more important than any heartbreak she might feel.

It seemed that the mirror didn't care one jot about invisibility cloaks. It sensed her in front of it, and reacted accordingly. At first it reflected only the room, Harry standing bound by the ropes and Quirrell talking to him. Then there it was – the TARDIS, and the Doctor, and the DoctorDonna, as if they were actually here. She had to force herself not to look around. It wasn't real, they weren't here at all. If nothing else, she'd have heard them landing.

The Doctor had a red rock in his hand, which he threw up and down. There was no doubt in Donna's mind that he was playing with the Philosopher's Stone. Then he grinned right at her – oh, that cocky grin that meant he was just about to save the world, only give him five minutes and room to talk. 

He threw the Stone at the DoctorDonna, who plucked it deftly from the air – maybe she should try out for Seeker, Donna thought hysterically.

The DoctorDonna looked at the Stone in her hand, a similar smirk on her face. It had taken years for Donna to reach that level of self-confidence again, even if she hadn't known that was what she was striving for. She'd never quite succeeded, though she'd come close. It was the smirk of a woman who knew exactly who she was, and nobody was going to take that from her. She winked at Donna, and put the stone in a pocket.

And just like that, Donna tilted slightly to the left with the unexpected weight of it. She had the Stone. Now she needed to get it out of here as quickly as possible, before Quirrell realised what had happened, except there was no way she was leaving her friends behind. 

She quickly left the mirror, so that she wouldn't accidentally bump into Quirrell, and went over to Neville, who was closest to the door. She showed her face. Leaning close, she whispered in his ear. “Take it away. Broom.” She gave him the Stone and the cloak, and nodded to the door. Neville nodded grimly, before disappearing under the cloak. She could only hope, and make sure Quirrell didn't realise his prize had just left the room.

Perhaps a quarter of an hour had passed when things went south, as things were wont to do in Donna's experience. Harry had run out of things to ask Quirrell, who had returned to his scrutiny of the mirror. He grew steadily more frustrated, until he finally yelled, “Master, help me!”

The same voice as before answered. “Use the boy... use the boy...”

Oooh... not good. Very not good. If he realised Harry couldn't get the Stone, her friend might get hurt. And where was that voice coming from? If she didn't know any better, she'd say it came from under Quirrell's turban.

Wherever it came from, though, the result of the order was that the ropes helpfully disappeared and Quirrell placed Harry in front of the mirror.

“What do you see?” he demanded.

Harry was obviously thinking fast, squinting into the mirror. “I'm... grown-up, in my seventh year... I'm Quidditch captain, and I just won the house cup... I'm shaking Dumbledore's hand.”

Good boy. He obviously didn't want to give away his actual deepest desire, that was just giving your enemy ammunition.

“He's lying...” the voice said. “Let me speak to him... face-to-face...”

That... sounded ominous.

Quirrell protested, “Master, you are not strong enough!”

“I have strength enough... for this.”

As they watched, Harry in the middle of the chamber and Hermione and Donna behind their pillars, Quirrell unwrapped his turban. So she had heard that right? The voice had come from under there?

A moment later the turban fell away, and as Quirrell turned around, Donna caught a glimpse of the pale face and red eyes on the back of his head. No doubt who that was, and she'd be damned if she was going to let Harry face him alone.

“Oi!” she hollered, charging around her pillar at the same time as Hermione. “Pick on someone your own size for a change!”

She came to a stop in front of Harry, taking a good long look into the snake-like face of Voldemort. “God,” she said, wrinkling her nose, “you are one ugly bastard, aren't ya!”

“What?” Voldemort shrieked. “What's this? Who are... I remember you,” he said suddenly, his red eyes narrowing. “You were in the forest. You stopped me drinking the blood of the unicorn, you and your little friends.”

Donna curtseyed. “At your service.”

“But I am stronger than you thought,” Voldemort continued, ignoring her. “Still I continue, even without the blood.”

“Pssh, yeah, and such a fun way to exist, pasted to the back of someone's head, always hidden by cloth. Didn't it get stuffy in there?”

“Once I have the Elixir of Life, I will be able to create my own body again, and you will pay for thwarting me!”

“Oh, honey, I've thwarted worse than you, evil you can't even dream of. I defeated a madman who would have erased all of reality. You got offed by a baby. You're not nearly as impressive as you like to think you are.”

“Silence! Tell me what you saw, boy, or your mouthy little friend dies. Where is the Stone!”

Quirrell started walking backwards, and so did the three of them – in the direction of the door.

Then Donna started laughing, causing Quirrell's body to stop its backward advance.

“What is the meaning of this?” Voldemort demanded.

“Well, Moldy Shorts, the meaning of this is that the Stone isn't here.”

“What? Of course it's here, it's in the mirror and the boy knows how to get it out!”

“No, I don't know that,” Harry replied. “What I saw in the mirror was Donna getting the Stone out and giving it to Neville to take it away.”

Donna grinned at the bastard. “He's probably with a teacher by now. Whoop! Run!”

The last part was said to Harry and Hermione. Quirrell turned around with a snarl and ran after them with a hate-filled face, while Voldemort shrieked, “GET THEM!”

They actually made it into the potion room, causing the flames to roar back into life. Quirrell managed to grab Harry's hand, causing him to trip and fall. His glasses were knocked askew, but then Quirrell stopped and looked at his hands, which had started blistering.

Harry scrabbled backwards, but before Donna could get to him and help him up, Quirrell seemed to remember for one moment that he was a wizard. She and Hermione were picked bodily up and slammed against the wall. By the time she'd got her breath and her bearings back, Quirrell was on top of Harry, with Voldemort shouting to kill him. 

Even as she rushed up to try and free Harry, the man started blistering all over and shrieking in pain. She and Hermione tried to dislodge him, but there was only so much two young girls could do against a grown-up.

And then, suddenly, it was over. Quirrell's body was yanked off Harry's, picked up by a magic not their own. A flash of purple, a hint of emerald, and Donna found herself being carried by a stern witch. She was suddenly dead tired as the adrenalin drained out of her and she realised they were safe.

“Now do you believe us that there's a thief?” she murmured, but if McGonagall answered she never heard it, as she dropped off into a deep sleep.


	28. Chapter 27 - Year End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is it... the last chapter. I'd like to say a big thank you to everyone who gave kudos and comments - I haven't responded to all comments but I appreciate each one! Also another huge thank you to the lovely Loor for her beta-reading. It's been lots of fun writing this and sharing it with you all.
> 
> I am planning on continuing with year 2, but work on that has only just started and I won't start posting until it's (mostly) finished so I can post it in one go like I did this one.

When Donna woke up, it was to find herself in the hospital wing again. She sat up, and saw Harry lying in the bed next to hers. Hermione lay on her other side, and one bed over there was Fred. Neville and George weren't there, but they were the ones who hadn't confronted Voldemort directly, so they'd probably slept in their own beds.

Madam Pomfrey came out of her office and saw Donna sitting up. “Miss Noble, good morning. How are you feeling?”

Donna moved a couple of her limbs experimentally. “Not bad, considering the smack I made against the wall.”

“Good. Most of your bruises were external, so they were easy enough to fix. All in all, you were all rather lucky, except for mister Potter.”

Donna looked quickly at Harry. “Is he ok?”

“He will be. He's been magically exhausted, so I'm leaving him asleep until his core has replenished.”

“And Quirrell? Something happened to him when he grabbed Harry.”

“Professor Quirrell... didn't make it. Miss Noble, could you explain what happened last night? After mister George Weasley brought in his brother, I sent a patronus after the headmaster. By the time it reached him and he returned, mister Longbottom had found professor McGonagall and given her something. We went down together, and found yourself and miss Granger trying to separate your friend and your professor. So what actually happened?”

“Look, Madam Pomfrey, if you carry around a Dark Wizard on the back of your head and bring him into a school, you lose all possible respect. So I'm calling him Quirrell, and I know nobody likes hearing said Dark Wizard's name so in fact I'm going to call him Quirrelmort. But I'd much rather do the telling to everyone who needs to know, if you don't mind? And preferably with the help of my friends, so I don't forget anything. I mean, except for Harry, obviously he needs to heal first.”

So it was that, after Hermione and Fred had woken up, George and Neville were allowed in, and Dumbledore and McGonagall listened to their story together with Pomfrey. 

“I feel like I owe you an apology,” McGonagall said when they were done talking. “You shouldn't have gone into danger, but you did try to warn me first, and if I hadn't brushed you off you wouldn't have felt the need to. I even knew about your seeing Voldemort in the forest. I was stressed from grading exams, but that is no excuse. I should at least have listened. I'm sorry.”

Donna smiled tightly at her and nodded. She could only hope that in the future, the professor would at least hear them out. Time would tell. She had a feeling that the danger in Hogwarts had only just started, for all that it was vaunted as the safest place in the wizarding world.

In the following days, as they waited for Harry to wake up, the rumour mill worked overtime. Everyone knew -something- had happened, they just couldn't agree on what exactly. Fred and George delighted in adding fuel to the fire by inventing the most outrageous details, and seeing how many people believed them. They did make sure to send anyone they trusted to know the truth to Donna, who explained everything to people who genuinely wanted to know, like last time. Slowly but surely, more students became aware that Voldemort was not as dead as people liked to believe. Nobody talked about it in public, but they knew.

Harry woke up just before the Leaving Feast. The headmaster was waiting when he did, and he had a discussion with him about their adventure, which he reported to his friends afterwards. Donna was suspicious about some of the answers Dumbledore had given, to say the least.

One, did he know Voldemort had possessed Quirrell, and if so why did he allow him near students for a whole year? Who knew what might have happened? If nothing else, it was a year where students had not received any sort of decent education in Defense against the Dark Arts. As she understood from older students, he was one in a long line of sub-par Defense teachers.

And second, the power of love? Really? That made a grown man spontaneously combust? Or smoulder, anyway, but still. She had her doubts, but there was little she could do about that now. Time enough to dissect all this information later, over the summer and with Jack's ready input. For now, they had a Feast to attend!

When they entered the Great Hall, it was to see it decorated in scarlet and gold. A lion pranced and roared on a large banner. McGonagall had awarded them points for their bravery, and since all six of them were Gryffindors, it had led to a comfortable lead in the house cup, easily beating Slytherin. Donna was glad they hadn't waited for the Feast before awarding the points, otherwise Slytherin would have one more reason added to a long list of griefs against Gryffindor, real and imagined.

The following day they received their exam results. Thanks to their study sessions, they all had quite good grades. Hermione was best among the first years, of course. Donna very carefully didn't point out that this was including the time to relax in her schedule. Hermione was a smart girl, she'd probably already factored that into her possible study schedule for next year.

The train ride back to London passed in a blur. They laughed and joked together, talked about their summer plans and anything else that caught their fancy. Donna also made a little trip up and down the train to say goodbye to her other friends – Susan and Hannah, Dean and Seamus, Lavender and Parvati, even Daphne Greengrass. Just because they weren't quite as close to her as the others, didn't mean she was going to be rude to them.

She made a list of telephone numbers, for anyone who possessed a telephone, and Floo addresses for anyone who didn't. She was sure she could get Archie to let her use his Floo access, and his owl if she wanted to send letters.

And then they were back at King's Cross station, where they all felt this year's adventure had started. Neville was the first to leave, as he wasn't crossing to the mundane side with them. His grandmother picked him up on the wizarding side and brought him home via Floo, as platform 9 ¾ had an access point.

There was an old wizard letting through muggleborns in little groups. Once he deemed it safe, Donna went through the gateway together with Hermione and Harry. At least the people who picked up their children on this side had an idea of how to dress to blend in, so they didn't draw as much attention as they might have.

“Mum! Dad!” Hermione said suddenly. “Come meet my friends!”

A couple – Donna judged them to be in their late thirties or early forties – came up to them. 

“Well hello there! You must be Donna and... Harry or Neville?” Hermione's mum said.

“I'm Harry,” he replied. “Neville is already on his way home.”

“Nice to meet you. We've heard so much about you!”

She was a lovely woman, with tanned skin and dark curls that had only a hint of Hermione's bushiness – although even Hermione's curls were a lot more manageable with magic. 

“Dr. Granger, how do you do,” Donna said, extending her hand. 

She laughed, although she did shake hands. “So formal. Please, call me Emma.”

Donna smiled at the infectious laugh. “Alright then, Emma. I'm Donna, like you already guessed.”

Just then, two hands covered her eyes. “Guess who!”

Donna really laughed this time. “Davros!” she yelled.

The hands released her and Jack's pouting face came into view. “Really, him? I'm way too handsome!”

She rolled her eyes affectionately. “Really, be happy I didn't say Voldemort, he can give Davros a run for his money. Granted, he doesn't have that third eye thingy going on, but then he also doesn't have a nose.”

Jack laughed and turned to the politely puzzled looking Grangers.

“Doctors Granger, good evening. I'm Captain Jack Harkness, Donna's honorary older brother. How are you?”

He flashed them his customary smile, but Donna could tell he was trying to keep himself in check, so she didn't stop him. Really, it was basically a lost cause. Flirting was just his way of communicating.

Hermione's dad stuck out his hand. “Dan,” he said. Jack shook his hand, and then Emma's when she introduced herself.

They were hardly done when they were interrupted again, this time by a whale of a man with no neck and a mustache. “Ready, are you?” he said to Harry with a disgusted look on his purple face. Donna raised her eyebrows. Charming.

“You must be Harry's family,” Jack said with the same smile that had charmed the Grangers moments before. It had no effect on the walrus, or the woman behind him who could only be aunt Petunia.

“In a manner of speaking. Hurry up, boy, we haven't got all day,” he grunted at Harry, before walking away with his wife.

Harry hung back for a moment, so Donna took the opportunity to hug him. “Write to me soon,” she said, “or I'm calling the police.”

Harry laughed and hugged her back. “I'll be fine, Donna, but thanks. We might not be allowed to use magic at home, but they don't know that. I can have some fun with Dudley this summer!”

“Ha! No wonder the Hat wanted to put you in Slytherin!”

After a hug from Hermione, Harry trailed after his uncle. They waved at him until he disappeared in the crowds. 

“Emma,” Donna said when they'd rejoined the grown-ups, “would it be ok if I came over to sleep once or twice this summer, or if Hermione came over to my place?”

Emma smiled happily. “Of course, Donna. I'm glad Hermione made such good friends at school. We want to go home now and hear everything about the school and magic, but give us a ring any time and we'll see about a date, ok?”

Donna hugged Hermione too, and then there were only Donna and Jack left in the station.

“So,” she said, looking at him, “my big brother, are you?”

“Honorary big brother, I said! … aren't I?” Jack looked suddenly more uncertain than she'd ever known him. She smiled happily and hugged him.

“Yes, Jack. You really are. Come on, late dinner, I'm starving!”

Together they left the station, ready for the summer.


End file.
